


Toppled Pedestal

by NocturnalNautica (EarthGirl)



Series: Sparkling AU [6]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Description of canon violence. Not too graphic but it's there., Discussion of death penalty, Family Drama, M/M, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-05-30 06:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15090956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthGirl/pseuds/NocturnalNautica
Summary: When Optimus Prime is your father, it's easy to build a certain image of him in your head. People are always telling you amazing stories about how great your old man is, and as you grow you never see him be anything but brave, kind, cunning, and heroic. Above all, heroic. All sparklings go through a period of wanting to be just like their parents, but when Optimus Prime is your father, it's understandable if it takes you a while to grow out of that phase.But alas, no one can really be as perfect as that. And Rodimus is about to find that out in a very unpleasant manner, as a series of bombastic revelations threaten everything he thought he knew about his dad.





	1. Chapter 1

Rodimus recharged undisturbed the night after his return, but Drift gently shook him online the next morning.

“Get up, sleeping beauty. Your father is going to make a speech soon.”

Rodimus groaned and sank deeper onto the berth.

“Sleeping beauty? Refresh my memory. Isn’t that the story about the human who couldn’t wake up without a kiss?”

Drift smiled indulgently and kissed him, but pulled away laughing when he tried to drag him back into berth.

“I’m serious. Optimus sent me a message last night asking me to not let you be late.”

Unwilling to return to real life after only one night of reprieve, Rodimus whined a bit, but eventually got up and made it to the general meeting in time.

The speech started as expected. Optimus briefed the Autobots on Cybertron’s current situation, announced that he was on his way to confront Galvatron and retake their home, and invited any who wished to join him to come along, making it clear that it would be a very uncertain and potentially dangerous mission.

“We don’t know their positions, their weaknesses, or what their defenses are. Until we do, we will be incredibly vulnerable. And even after we’ve assessed their strength… This could well be a suicide mission. But regardless of the odds… Cybertron is _home_ , and I know many of you have been looking for something tangible to fight for. Some goal.”

That they had. Rodimus’s hand was on the air before his father was done asking for volunteers to accompany him, and it was far from being the only one. By the time Optimus finished the question, everybody’s hands were up, just as expected. Rodimus smiled at the sight, feeling the exhaustion melt away and his usual lust for adventure return to him.

And then he saw Bumblebee standing apart from the group with a somber expression, both arms low, and his spark sank. He couldn’t even begin to imagine why his brother would choose to stay on Earth when there was a chance of recovering their home, but this didn’t bode well for their upcoming conversation. Rodimus had hoped to talk to him during the trip, to give him time to process it and check back with him a night after the revelation, but now… His relationship with Bee was already too frail. He considered postponing the conversation until after the battle with Galvatron, but couldn’t shake away how right his father had been to call that battle a potential suicide mission. What if he died, and Bumblebee discovered the secret afterwards and thought Rodimus hadn’t intended to tell him?

He sighed. There was nothing to be done. As soon as the speech was over, he walked to his father.

“Do you know what’s up with Bee?” He whispered. Optimus nodded, seeming to be tired.

“Yes, I’m afraid we had an argument last night. He’s angry, and rightfully so, because I ordered Omega to get ready for the trip without consulting him first.”

“I don’t get it. Why would you consult him?”

“Because he was elected Autobot leader after you and I left.”

“And he expected to keep the position after you returned?!?”

“Can you blame him? I _left_ , Rodimus. And my actions resulted in you kids having to shoulder a large responsibility that neither of you were expecting nor were ready for. That was very selfish of me. There were problems with the humans, Bumblebee had a really hard time fixing things, and just as he was starting to feel confident in his new role I returned and took back control as if nothing had happened. I tried to tell him I wouldn’t have done it in any other circumstances, but…” Optimus hesitated.

“But Megatron was here,” Rodimus completed. “You don’t have to step on eggs, Dad, I can handle talking about him. Well, if Bee thinks that he, or anyone else besides you, could handle Megatron, I’m in a _very_ good position to explain to him how extremely wrong he is.”

“Don’t. I don’t want you two fighting over a problem that I created. Dealing with Megatron was _my_ responsibility, regardless of the chain of command, but under the circumstances I understand why my confrontation with him upset Bumblebee. I should have talked to him before I went after Megatron.  Then, right after Megatron's surrender, you returned with the news about of Cybertron, and… Well, there was no other option but gathering forces to return home and fight to recover it. But maybe I should have let Bumblebee give Omega the order. I understand him being upset, and I can only hope that if we’re successful in getting Cybertron back, Bumblebee will join us as soon as his business on Earth is done, and that we’ll be able to talk then.”

“He still has business on Earth?”

 “Yes, I imagine that’s why he’s staying. There are some issues with the humans that really need to be solved. I planned on returning here to take care of that after Cybertron was safe, but I guess Bumblebee has decided it’s better to get the whole thing over with before going home.”

Rodimus felt relieved. He’d been afraid his brother was staying for personal reasons.

“So, about what you told me yesterday… Do you think it’s better if I talk to him alone?”

“You want to tell him _now_? We’re leaving in a few hours…”

“I know. But you said yourself that this may be a suicide mission. I thought about it, and… If Bee died, and I later found out he knew an important family secret he didn’t tell me, I’d think he didn’t trust me, and that would hurt. I don’t want to risk him feeling that way about me.”

Optimus nodded.

“I see your point.  And of course I will be there with you.”

Rodimus nodded and started to walk away, but was called back.

“Speaking of our conversation yesterday, how are _you_ , son?”

“Still processing it,” Rodimus replied, without looking at his father. “To be honest, I can’t let myself focus on that now. It’s too much to process right before an important battle. But I think I’ll want to talk more to you about it after we’re done with Galvatron.”

Optimus nodded and seemed hesitant to say anything further on the subject, so Rodimus darted off in search of his brother before the silence grew awkward. He found Bumblebee deep into a discussion with Ultra Magnus. He worried that Bee might claim to be too busy to talk to him, but it seemed their conversation was almost done.

“I thought you’d be busy packing,” Bumblebee told him as soon as Magnus walked away.

“I never pack until an hour before launch time. Helps me to focus on the task.”

Bumblebee gave him a disapproving look, but said nothing.

“Actually, Bee, I need to talk to you.”

“Oh. Sure. About what?”

“Well, there are a few things. First off, we didn’t exactly leave things between us at a good place, and…”

“Look, Rodimus, as far as I’m concerned, that’s on the past. We’ve both been through a lot since then, and to be honest I’m just happy we are both still here.” He hesitated, then looked Rodimus in the optics. “But if you’re worried about how we left things, I want you to know that last night your traveling companions told me about what you’ve been up to, and… I’m proud of you.”

“Whoa. Bee, are you feeling alright?”

Bee rolled his optics.

“You were the one who asked for a serious conversation. If you prefer to retreat into childish bickering, I…”

“No, no, no! It’s just… I haven’t heard you say that since I learned how to transform!”

Bumblebee had the grace to look sheepish.

“That long? Huh, look, Rodimus… I _am_ proud of you, for lots of reasons, ok? I just don’t show it much because I’m usually too annoyed with you. Your childish behavior tends to eclipse your qualities…”

“Stop, you’re making me blush,” Rodimus deadpanned, causing Bumblebee to give him a “that’s exactly what I’m talking about” look.

“ _My point is_ , it doesn’t mean those qualities aren’t there. You’re brave, smart, and determined. You have some maturing to do, but I am really proud of the person you’re becoming.”

“Thanks, Bee,” Rodimus said, taken aback. “Huh, I’d love to just tell you that I admire your responsibility and sense of work ethics too, and leave this conversation on a positive note, but… Well, funny you mentioned thinking I’m immature.”

Bumblebee frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s something Dad and I need to tell you.”

At that, Bumblebee tensed.

“I don’t know if he told you, but…”

“You had a big fight last night, yeah, yeah, I know. And I’d be all for giving you guys space and wait for you to chill and talk things through in your own time, except that we’re off to fight fragging Galvatron, and I don’t want to risk anyone dying before this conversation happens, ok?”

“Oh. In that case…”

Bee seemed a bit alarmed, but preferred not to ask any questions. They walked in silence to their father’s office.

“Ah, here you are,” said Optimus when they entered the room and closed the door. “Please, sit down.”

They did, and their father looked anxiously at Bumblebee.

“Rodimus said you had something to tell me,” said Bee, breaking the nervous silence. Optimus nodded.

“I do. Bumblebee, do you remember that when you two were little, sometimes Rodimus would ask a question and you’d ask me if it was ok to tell him the truth or if he wasn’t ready for it yet?”

“Yes.”

“So… There is something that I didn’t feel he was ready to learn until last night, and now that he knows, it feels wrong to keep it from you.”

“If it were the other way around, I’d feel hurt if you didn’t tell me,” said Rodimus, feeling the need to justify why it was so important to him to make sure they had that conversation before the launch. Bumblebee, understandably, looked as if all the secrecy was starting to freak him out.

“What is it?”

Optimus’s mouthplate moved as if he was biting his lips, but he managed to sound calm when he said it.

“You’re adopted, but Rodimus isn’t. I carried him. Until last night, Ratchet and I were the only people who knew.”

Bumblebee’s initial reaction was the exact same expressionless “what” as Rodimus’s had been. There was a pause as he processed the information, then his face assumed a look of intense concentration.

“That month I spent with Ironhide…” he muttered at last. “I don’t remember much about it, but I remember I didn’t want you to leave. You said you had to take care of some war business… It was a lie, wasn’t it? You were having Roddy.”

“Yes.”

“ _Why?_ Why would you lie about something like that?!?”

“It’s complicated,” Optimus replied, looking deeply uncomfortable. Bumblebee scoffed.

“Too complicated to be explained to two four million years old war veterans?”

“Bee, I’m fine with leaving it at that for a while,” interjected Rodimus, hoping that his brother would pick up on the urgency of his tone. It seemed to work, for after a moment of hesitation, Bumblebee changed the subject.

“Well, since we’re all being so honest, I have to say I’m a bit relieved,” he said dryly. “I’ve always thought I must be doing something wrong, so knowing that Rodimus being the favorite has nothing to do with me really takes some weigh out of my shoulders.”

Rodimus’s optics went wide, and so did Optimus’s.

“Bee, I don’t have a favorite,” the Prime said earnestly. “I’m really sorry if I gave you this impression. I’ve always parented you two differently because you _are_ really different from each other, but I love both of you just the sa…”

“Right,” said Bumblebee. “Then how come I always try my best to do everything right and never get half the recognition he does when he goes off making a mess out of everything he touches?”

“Bumblebee, that’s not… “ Optimus sounded crestfallen. “I didn’t know you felt that way. You’re one of the most important officers in the Autobot army, and there are moments in which we would have fallen apart without you. I see I failed to express my appreciation, and I am so sorry. You…”

“With all due respect, Father, now isn’t a good moment to have this conversation. I already had too much on my mind even before finding out you lied to us our entire lives. If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot to do. Good luck in the fight against Galvatron.”

He got up and left. Rodimus threw their father what he hoped was a reassuring glance, then went after him.

“Bumblebee, wait!”

“Rodimus, I don’t want to make you late for your trip.”

“I’m not leaving without talking to you!”

Bumblebee stopped walking and his voice softened slightly.

“You don’t have to. I’m angry at him, not you.”

“I know. But I want to let you know that I always felt _you_ were the favorite.”

“ _What?!?_ ”

“You always did everything right! You were a straight-A student, you did your chores on time, you were just the perfect sparkling, you know? And I was just this messy, loud, lousy kid who asked too many questions and was always annoying the adults, or getting into dangerous shenanigans and worrying them to death, as if they didn’t already have enough on their plate with a literal war to fight. Yeah, there were a lot of times in which Dad was really attentive to me because he was relieved I’d survived whichever stupid stunt I’d just pulled, but I was also told off a lot too, which you never were, so… I just assumed he liked you better.”

Bee snorted.

“How about that? I always felt you hogged all of the attention, positive and negative.”

“I had never seen it that way,” said Rodimus, pensively. “Guess Dad was probably telling the truth about not having a favorite, then. I kinda wish we’d had this conversation earlier.”

Bumblebee nodded, then tentatively asked a question.

“And about the big revelation, how are you doing? _I’m_ so shocked, I can’t even imagine what it must be like for you.”

“I’m trying to not think too much about it, you know? Saving it for after Galvatron, when hopefully it’ll be the main problem I’ll have to deal with.”

“That makes sense. But if you don’t mind me asking… Why are you going so easy on Dad?”

“I’m not. You should have heard me yelling at him last night.”

“I can imagine. But today you were… Look, Rodimus, maybe this is none of my business, but I feel like it’s my older brother duty to tell you.”

“Oh-oh, I’m in trouble.”

“You aren’t, it’s just… Do you remember that before you left Earth, you accused me of acting as if questioning Dad was some sort of mortal crime?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that, it was a really stupid thing to say.”

“No, it wasn’t. It made me really think about it, and I understood why you thought that. But it’s not true. It’s just that I feel better when I’m following protocol, and, well, Dad _invented_ the current protocol. But that’s also why no one is angrier than me when he occasionally breaks it. Like today, for example. He always taught us to be honest, and I can’t get over the hypocrisy. So no, I don’t idolize him that much. But… I’m afraid that maybe you do.”

“ _Me_?!?”

“Yes. You’re always rebelling against everyone _except_ Dad. If he follows the rules, you try your best to do so too, even if you hate to do it. If he improvises some nonsensical, overly dangerous strategy, you later insist it was a genius move and the best possible course of action. You have your moments of rebellion against him, of course, as proved by the entirety of your most recent adventure. And I won't deny that, in those moments, you are _ruthless_. But you only act that way when he does something _really_ extreme. And even then, you're always willing to forgive him easily, like you're doing now. He lied to you about your origins, and you’re still letting him get off the hook without even telling you why he did it, or…”

“He says he’s not ready to talk about it, and I’m afraid he may have good reasons,” Rodimus confessed, speaking almost too quickly to be understood.

Bumblebee stared at him, confused, then suddenly understood what he meant and looked horrified.

“ _Oh_. You mean… I see. Forget that last part, then, you’re right not to ask. I… Maybe I'll give Rung a call and ask him to check if Dad would like an appointment, just in case. And ... If you need to talk, I…”

“Thanks, Bee. But I’m focusing on Galvatron, remember?”

“Yeah. Sure. But if you don’t mind, I’d still like to finish my point before you leave, alright? Because I’m worried. When I said earlier that I think you still have some growing up to do, part of what I meant is that Dad’s opinion is still _too_ important for you. You won’t be able to keep him on a pedestal forever, Rodimus, and the longer this goes on, the harder it will be on you when he eventually manages to disappoint you."

“I’ll… Think about it,” Rodimus promised, sincerely. His processor was too full with problems for him to even begin to focus on his brother’s words, but he was touched enough by the concern to be willing to give it some serious thought as soon as he was able. Bumblebee gave him a small smile.

“Good. Now you really have to go pack your stuff. Take care, brat.”

Rodimus laughed and hugged him. This was the closest he’d ever felt to his brother in the entirety of their adult lives, and he hated that it was happening in the moment of a dangerous separation.

“Take care too, big bro. See you soon,” he replied, praying that it would be so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone, I'm back! I'm so sorry about the unplanned hiatus, life went a bit crazy. I can't make any promises about how often I'll be able to update the fic from now on, but I want to let everyone know I'm NOT abandoning it. There are a lot of exciting scenes ahead that I'm really looking forward to writing and sharing with you. Thank you so much to everyone who left comments and kudos! I'm really glad you're enjoying this series. ^^
> 
> Tune in next time to see Roddy overhearing a certain canon conversation...


	2. Chapter 2

This was far from being anyone’s first long trip to a mission’s location, and they all knew the drill. Time on the ship would usually be spent training, discussing strategies, and taking care of any needed repairs. However, this time the situation was a bit different from usual. Ratchet was ensuring they were all battle ready, but as they knew nothing about Galvatron and his army, discussing strategies and preparing for specific situations became impossible. So instead the Autobots were all just practicing their strong points, trying to fully remaster them after two slow years of so-called-peace, and high command…

Well, high command still found something urgent to discuss.

Rodimus was trying to perfect his hold on a sword, under Drift’s careful guidance, when they were interrupted by a message from Ratchet to the crew announcing that he had completed a check-up on Megatron and found everything to be normal. Someone had suggested that the reason for the Decepticon leader’s mysterious surrender might be that he was hiding some new sort of weapon in his body, and every discussion over his fate had been suspended while that was verified. Apparently he was clean. Rodimus sighed and threw the sword on the berth, which earned him a look of reprehension from Drift. Rolling optics, Rodimus placed it back into the scabbard and stored it before Drift could begin the safety lecture. Once he was done, Drift nodded approvingly and sat on the floor, gesturing for Rodimus to join him.

“Was that because you're nervous about the meeting to decide what will be done with Megatron? You won’t have to see him, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I just wish I could forget he exists, at least until after this whole thing with Galvatron is over… But I think Prowl will be pushing for him to be executed before we reach Cybertron, so there’s really no delaying this.”

“He’ll either be killed or imprisoned for life,” said Drift, with a hint of melancholy in his voice, “so you’ll be rid of him no matter what. I mean, the only other alternative is letting someone else- a formal trial by jury in Cybertron or the Galactic Council- decide which of the two it will be, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I know. It just still feels too early for me to spend hours discussing his crimes. But, oh well, there’s nothing to be done.” He sighed, then looked hesitantly at his partner. “Hum, Drift? Don’t take this the wrong way, but… If we decide to kill Megatron, do you have any last messages for him?”

Drift’s frame stiffened and he stared fixedly at the wall in front of him.

“I don’t. But thanks for asking.”

Rodimus held one of Drift’s hands, and Drift squeezed his. Feeling strengthened by the mutual reassurance, they got up and left the room. Rodimus was certain that the meeting to decide Megatron’s fate would begin at any minute, and Drift mentioned he wanted to drop by the medibay to ask Ratchet something. Before they got to the corridor where they would part ways, however, they were stopped by a small crowd reunited in front of the window that showed Megatron’s cell, located a floor below.

“What is going on?”

“Oh, hi, Rodimus,” said the nearest person. “Apparently your father is about to go in there to talk to him.”

“What?!?”

Without waiting for an answer, Rodimus made his way to the window. People moved to make room for him, and after a few seconds he had the best place in the crowd. Looking inside the room, he shuddered. Megatron was strapped to a variable voltage harness, suspended on the air, and Ratchet had just said that at present he didn’t present any risks; but still Rodimus’s spark tightened at the sight. He hadn’t seen Megatron since the attack, and couldn’t help his instinctive fearful reaction. Attempting to distract himself from that, he wondered what business his father could have to discuss with the monster before the meeting. He didn’t have to wonder long, for his father soon showed up inside the cell. Casting an annoyed look at the crowd, he said “Omega, give us some privacy.”

Metal plaques slid over the glass, blocking their view.

“You owe me fifty shanix,” someone whispered, and Rodimus turned to ask what they meant by that. But before anyone could say anything else, a deep, cold voice echoed through the corridor.

“Prime.”

“Megatron,” replied Optimus, in the same emotionless tone. He had forgotten to close the audio.

A wave of anxiety seemed to run through the group. Morbid curiosity, and the thrill of doing something utterly forbidden, compelled them to stay where they were and let the audio feed run. And yet, deep down they were afraid of what they might hear. Apart from Drift, none of them had ever interacted with Megatron away from a battlefield, and Rodimus was the only one who’d ever confronted him one-on-one. Prime had been dealing with Megatron for millions of years, and it was no secret that this wouldn’t be the nemesis’s first private conversation. With him, Megatron would certainly speak in a less filtered way than the Autobots were used to hearing. What type of horrors would he say, when he believed himself off the record and alone with his worst enemy? No one in that crowd felt ready to discover that. Yet, none of them felt like moving.

“I was glad to hear Rodimus returned home safely.”

Rodimus tensed when he heard his attacker pronounce his name. What kind of sick game was Megatron playing this time? There had been no sarcasm in his tone, he would have sounded sincere to anyone who didn’t know the story, but he couldn’t possibly believe he was going to fool anyone inside this ship…

“Spare me the hypocrisy, Megatron…” Optimus began to say, but Megatron interrupted.

“No, I mean it. He’s a very bold and resourceful boy, and…”

Megatron’s voice was naturally powerful and the audio system enhanced it even further, but Rodimus could barely understand the next words, as the crowd around him suddenly began to try to shut the feed, in a kind attempt to keep him from having to hear the man who’d shot him in the spark talk about him.

“It’s ok, guys!” He said quickly, not quite knowing why. “Leave it on.”

It’ll be better if we listen in, he thought, remembering that his father had tried to kill Megatron for shooting him. Murdering Megatron in his cell would not be a good decision, politically speaking, so it would be safer for everyone if they listened to the conversation in case they needed to jump in and stop Optimus from doing anything rash. Yes, that was definitely why he preferred to leave the audio on.

Bullshit. He was rationalizing, and he knew it. The truth was, he was intrigued. Megatron should know Optimus would never fall for a fake display of concern towards his family, so why was he even trying?!? Rodimus didn’t think he would be able to relax until he understood that point.

And even more than discovering what Megatron’s angle in this was, Rodimus was eager to hear his father shutting him down- in a non-murderous way, of course. He was still deeply shaken by the revelation about his birth, and witnessing his dad have a heroic moment might help to repair the damage that the secret had caused to the trust that had always existed between them.

Megatron was still talking about him, and the last sentence brought Rodimus’s attention fully back to their conversation.

“… he reminded me a lot of you when we were young. You must be very proud.”

“I didn’t come here to talk about Rodimus. Leave him out of this conversation.”

“As you wish,” Megatron replied sardonically. “What _are_ we discussing, then?”

“Before we start, I need to know how we’re going to play this. Are we going to spend the next hour posturing, or are we going to rise to the occasion and actually have a civilized conversation?”

“’Rise to the occasion?’ What is this, a summit meeting? I’m bolted to the wall, I’m riddled with inhibitor chips, and I’m precisely one rash gesture away from being electrocuted to death. It’s hardly conductive to a frank exchange of views.”

Rodimus tried to scoff at Megatron’s audacity, but the next sentence that came from the cell made him freeze in horror.

“Fair point.”

There were the sounds of steps, and then of buttons being pushed on a control panel.

“Is… Is Optimus doing what I think he’s doing?” Said someone’s voice, coming from what felt like a huge distance away. Others joined it. “Should we do something?” “Omega, can you open the curtains? It’s for security reasons!”  

Rodimus became vaguely aware that people were staring at him, trying to see his reaction to his father’s actions, or establish if he had some information that might clarify the situation, but he didn’t care. His focus was on the audio coming from the cell, and nothing else felt real, not even Drift’s hand gently squeezing his, or his voice whispering “are you alright?” against his audial and sounding, due to Rodimus’s distress, as distant as everyone else’s.

The harness was moving towards the floor now. Rodimus heard it open, and heavy steps made their way across the floor.

“Take a seat,” said his father’s voice, as polite as it had ever been at Autobot council meetings, and this just couldn’t be real. It was a dream, it was clearly a nightmare that his processor was creating because he was freaked out about the whole dad-really-being-his-carrier thing and because of how recent the trauma with Megatron was, it _had_ to be that, it had….

“Now, what did you want to talk about?” Said Megatron, sounding insufferably casual and comfortable, as if he was sitting on a friend’s living room.

“You surrendered. Why?”

At that, Rodimus felt a flicker of hope. There. His father was luring Megatron into a false sense of security in order to get him to confess. Never mind that asking him directly would be the worst possible way to obtain a confession. Rodimus was going to cling to any hope he could get. After all, his father knew Megatron better than he did. There must be some logic to this insanity he was doing.

There must.

“I thought we’d already had this conversation,” Megatron replied, still calmly.

“No, we just went through the motions. You provoked me, I reacted. Same as always.”

Rodimus had mixed feelings about that. Nothing could be more unwelcome to him at that moment than this implication that his father and Megatron had interacted in private often enough to develop a pattern between them. But on the other hand, if that pattern existed, it was good news to hear that his father was attempting to break it.

“What’s happening to my- to the Decepticons?”

“Forget the Decepticons. Right now, the war exists only in theory.”

Wait, what? What did his father mean by that? The war was _everything_ , it always had been, and for as long as Megatron lived, it always would be. If his father wasn’t attempting to discover how Megatron’s plans and reasons for surrender would alter the war, why was he even talking to Megatron?!?

“For the purposes of what follows,” Optimus continued, “there is just me and you, and a conversation we’ve put off for far too long.”

His voice was serious, but far, _far_ too soft, making it sound not as much as someone addressing a mortal enemy as someone addressing a…

No. Rodimus refused to finish that thought. Nervously, he glanced around to check if anyone else had reached the horrible conclusion that had just threatened to pass through his mind, and found that everyone’s faces were vacant, as if they were too engrossed by the discussion to pay attention to their surroundings.

“I’ve been preoccupied,” Megatron said casually. “Worlds to conquer, enemies to crush with my bare hands… I spend most of my days scrubbing stale oil from my fingers.”

“Ouch,” muttered Drift, and Rodimus realized that they were still holding hands and that his fist had closed tightly enough to hurt Drift’s.

“Sorry,” he whispered back, letting go of Drift and immediately returning his attention to the conversation inside the cell. His father was speaking now, in a voice that still sounded too soft for his present company, but also carried infinite sadness.

“Megatron, everything you say… Do you realize this? Everything you say is steeped on **hate**.”

“Ha! I learned to hate in a cell much like this one- and I have an Autobot to thank for it. An Autobot with friends in high places, who taught me all about violence and its **application** ”

Everyone flinched at that. They knew the story. Even those who had never touched a copy of Megatron’s autobiography had heard of the part Whirl played on it, and none of them liked to be reminded of that; to be reminded of what ‘Autobot’ meant before Optimus reclaimed the word, to be reminded that many of their enemies would never think of the word as meaning anything but terror and oppression, and would never see _them_ as anything but people who proudly identified with a term originally created to designate those who’d persecuted and murdered their friends and family.

“Now I **live** to hate. It **sustains** me. Sometimes I wonder if there’s anything else left. Lust, rage, ambition- I’ve moved beyond them all. In fact, I look back over the last four million years and recognize that there have been only two constants: hate… And you.”

Rodimus grind his teeth and felt his jaw lock in tension. Try as he might, he could not ignore the intimacy of that speech, the way in which Megatron had accentuated the word “lust”, throwing it as an insult, as if it should be of particular interest to Optimus. Nor could he dismiss the way the warlord’s voice had softened in those last two words, how he had so clearly separated Optimus from hate, almost putting them in direct opposition to each other. No matter how he tried to spin it, Rodimus couldn’t get away from the thought that what Megatron was really saying was that for four million years Optimus had been the only thing that kept his life from turning into nothing but hate. And that was such a poignant feeling, it conveyed such closeness, and… Oh, Primus, he was going to get sick. He just wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

“I’m surprised you can differentiate between the two,” whispered Optimus, in a sweet tone that greatly increased the Autobots’s discomfort. 

“Let me tell you something, Prime. I don’t hate you.”

No. No. What was Megatron saying?!? What did both of them think they were playing at?!? They were enemies! They had tried to kill each other countless times, Rodimus had witnessed it, so why were they speaking to each other in this way?!?

“Oh, I hate what you **represent** ,” Megatron continued, “and I hate the obstacles you put in my way, but don’t think I don’t understand why you’re trying to stop me. I forgive you that much. And you? Do you hate me? I don’t think I ever heard you say it.”

This was ridiculous. This was _Megatron_. Megatron, destroyer of worlds. Megatron, who’d shot him through the spark just a few weeks ago. Megatron, who had _just_ bragged about the time it took him to clean the stale oil from his hands. How could he suddenly sound so shy, as expectant and hesitating as a teenaged sparkling trying to figure out if his first crush liked him too? Why was he taking that tone with Rodimus’s father, right after telling him he was the only part of his life that he didn’t hate, why…

“Yes,” his father said, and Rodimus felt intense relief wash through his spark. For one glorious second, his world began to make sense again. But then his father continued speaking, and his thoughts and feelings were once again thrown in chaos. “ **No**. I don’t know **how** I feel about you.”

Had _everything_ been a lie?

“Hate is too simple a word,” continued Optimus, “too… Easy. It might sustain you, Megatron, but it diminishes me. I am **lessened** by it.”

Megatron scoffed.

“Tell me- were you always this sanctimonious, or was it something you had to work at? Behold, the **infallible** Optimus Prime! Wise, charismatic, compassionate! A paragon of virtue! How **tiring** it must be. The insecurity, the loneliness, the **agonizing** self-doubt.”

“You speak as if you know me. You don’t.”

“I know you better than anyone, and it terrifies you.”

“Roddy?” Drift whispered against his audial. “Are you alright? You look like you’re going to faint.”

Rodimus nodded, but found himself incapable of speech. Inside the cell, the conversation continued.

“What terrifies me, if you must know, is the sheer monotony of it all. You and me, trading blows, making threats, going through the motions while everything we care about turns to dust. And speaking of things we care about… I’m the only non-hateful constant in your life? _Really_ , Megatron? You have two sons.”

That seemed to strike a blow. There was an awkward pause, then a quiet murmur.

“You’ve asked me to not speak of your son. I’m asking you to not speak of mine.”

“I’d like to respect that, but it’s my duty to find out why you surrendered. Did your disagreements with Overlord have anything to do with…”

“ _Leave my boys out of this_ ,” Megatron growled, causing all the Autobots listening outside to instinctively shrink away from the wall. And yet, none of them needed visual of the room to know that Optimus had stood as still as a rock.

“I will if you promise me they have nothing to do with the reason why you surrendered.”

“They don’t.”

“Good. So I ask again: why did you surrender?”

Why was he taking Megatron at his word like that?!?

Megatron didn’t answer, so Optimus tried again, sounding angrier this time.

“Why did you surrender?!? Or, better yet, why did you even keep fighting after you killed Zeta? Why did you put us through all of this? I fought to **stop** you, it’s as simple as that. But you- What **exactly** were you fighting for? I thought I knew, but… Okay, imagine you’d **won**. What would victory look like? What would it **mean**?”

Rodimus’s processor was spinning. What was the point of these questions?!? Megatron answered them with a disgusting bigoted speech about the supposed Cybertronian superiority, as expected. What else could his father have been expecting him to say?!? Megatron’s plans for the universe were far from being a secret, how could Optimus still have doubts about them?

They argued for a few minutes, discussing questions of government, of individual freedom, of autonomy, free will, and every other mark of a decent society that would be lacking from Megatron’s dreamed dictatorship, and Rodimus felt his understanding of the situation slipping at every word. This was hardly the first time he had heard them have that argument, but previous ones had always taken place during battles, and Rodimus and all of his friends had believed them to be for the soldiers’s benefit, to keep them encouraged and remind each side of its reasons to fight. But now the two leaders were locked together in a room, believing themselves to be fully alone, and yet the discussion proceeded. Why?!? Optimus was growing increasingly frustrated, and Megatron seemed to be laughing at him, to the point in which it was becoming hard for Rodimus to remind himself that the Decepticon leader was their prisoner, not the way around, and that therefore he was safe and had nothing to fear.

Megatron stopped his disgusting speech and there was a tense pause, during which Rodimus fervently expected to hear the sound of him being dragged back to his restraints. But instead, what he heard was his father whispering sadly,

“In some respects, we’re not that different. Peace, prosperity, contentment- that’s what I want too. I just don’t think you can **impose** these things.”

For the first time in the conversation, Megatron seemed rattled.

“Don’t even put yourself in the same category as me!” He shouted, for once in his life speaking sense. But it was short-lived, for his next words went back to his usual unsettling megalomania. “I was a **visionary**. I spoke out. I resisted the weight of the Cybertronian State- and what were **you** doing?”

You spoke out against a gross injustice, but then substituted it with a worse one, Rodimus thought, burning with anger. People around him began to step back, fearful of him possibly flaming out, but he paid them no mind. Megatron was still talking, and he had to know why his father was letting him. It had to be part of an elaborate new form of interrogation, it just **had** …

“The Senate carved out the planet’s population according to notions of utility,” Megatron continued, nearly hissing in fury. “Your form dictated your function, and your function dictated your fate. Social engineering in the most literal sense, down to the disgusting ways they used those supplements to ensure no bot would give birth to a child not physically suited for the type of life they’d chosen for the kid before it was even born! Someone had to say ‘no!’ Someone had to say ‘enough!’ **I** was that person. ‘Freedom is the right of all sentient beings’”, he practically spat the sentence, “ _where the hell were you when Cybertronians like my family and I were forced to work in the mines just because we were made that way?!?”_

There was a long pause after that. Rodimus still felt angry and confused. He wanted to yell about all of Megatron’s crimes, to break into the cell and shove down the Decepticon’s throat all the good deeds that his father had done since the beginning of the war; and yet he knew that none of that would erase the fact that his father _had_ worked for a deeply corrupt and oppressive regime, and that he might not have realized how deeply society’s issues ran if it hadn’t been for Megatron.

“I’m not the Cybertronian I was before the war,” Optimus muttered at last, seeming to put some hidden meaning in his words. “Nor are you. You used to be more understanding of the fact that my family, colleagues, and I, were also made for a specific role and indoctrinated from infancy to fulfill it.”

“I haven’t forgotten that,” replied Megatron after a long, heavy pause. His voice was suddenly much softer, and Rodimus found himself, impossibly, wishing that the man who’d nearly killed him would start shouting again. An angry Megatron might give him flashbacks to the shooting, but it was still better than hearing him speak to his father as if… As if…

“I know you were a victim of the system too, and I still admire the promptness with which you broke free from most of what you’d been forced to believe in. And don’t think for a second that I’ve forgotten that you saved my life and invaded the Senate to speak on my behalf. But Optimus…”

The sudden change to first name made Rodimus shudder.

 “You have to admit that you only did all of that because on the day of my arrest I happened to be carrying a draft of Towards Peace. Had I taken the day off to relax with Impactor and forget about my writing for a few hours, you probably wouldn’t have thought of verifying if I’d really assaulted those men. And how many other innocent miners were arrested during your time in the police force, and beaten, tortured, and sentenced for life for nothing but being at the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong friend, without you ever knowing it? Without you ever thinking of checking on the way they were being treated?”

Megatron’s voice was growing more and more earnest, but the wrath was gone, and he was simply speaking as someone determined to make his interlocutor see reason.

“I think of that every day, Megatron,” Optimus admitted sadly. “And of many others who I wouldn’t have noticed I wronged if you hadn’t told me. I spent the last four million years trying to amend for that. But have you ever stopped to think about the good we could have done those people if we’d worked together at it, instead of starting this absurd war because you used their suffering to manipulate them into joining an army that spread death, oppression, and horror to other parts of the galaxy?”

“You and I?” Megatron murmured, in a tone that mixed grief and wonder. “Work together, after Zeta? I thought you despised me.”

“I did, but not for Zeta, or anything else that happened on that day. It was what came after. For Primus’s sake, Megatron, couldn’t you just have taken power on a temporary basis and called for an election?!?  I returned to find you installed as a dictator, what did you expect me to…” Optimus abruptly stopped talking, and after a moment said, in a calmer tone, “But there is no point in restarting that old discussion. We can’t change the past.  But we can still focus on the future. Because I don’t care what’s happening outside this cell…”

“Clearly,” Rodimus muttered between grinded teeth. Drift made a movement as if he was going to place a hand on his shoulder, but thought better due of fear of being burned. Inside the cell, Optimus continued talking.

“I don’t care what second-rate opportunist has taken your place, whether it’s Starscream, Soundwave, or… Or Swindle. What it comes down to, Megatron, is us. You and I. We could end this war right now- **right now** \- with a handshake. Look me in the eye. Look me in the eye and say you want it ended, and **it will end**.”

The silence that followed lasted an eternity. Rodimus thought he’d heard Drift’s voice saying something, but he wasn’t sure. Hearing his father ask his would-be-killer to look him in the eye and take his hand had been too much. His processor had ceased to process external input.

That is, until his father’s voice broke through the silence again.

“They want to see you dead. My Autobots. No doubt your Decepticons too, after what you’ve done.”

So Megatron had refused the offer. Good. In that moment, he was displaying more honor than Optimus.

That thought came unbidden, and Rodimus felt the energon turn in his stomach as he acknowledged it.

“What about you?” Asked Megatron.

“Me? I just want to know why you surrendered.”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does.”

“We’ll see.. We’ll see… So, what now? Do you want me to step back into that electric harness?”

At those words, Rodimus’s systems instantly returned to full attention, and he could tell from the movement around him that he hadn’t been the only one to react like that. Swept up in the ocean of emotions that had been caused by the conversation, the Autobots had nearly forgotten that Megatron was free from his bonds. But that was it, the little catch up was over, this was where Megatron attacked Optimus and used some new weapon to take over the ship, they had to prepare for battle, they had to…

“Are you going to strap me back into this yourself? Kinky, Prime. Why don’t we let your Autobots watch? Don’t you miss that excitement of having all eyes on us when we fought…”

People screamed and jumped away when Rodimus spontaneously flamed. The fire went out, but he still felt his insides burning with confusion and rage. Without thinking, he transformed and drove away from that cell as fast as he could, seeking the most risky curves in Omega’s corridors, speeding on the slippery parts of the floor, trying to redirect all of his focus into physical activity and away from the thoughts roaring in his mind.

Megatron had nearly killed him. His father had been angry while he thought the attempt had been successful, but appeared to have forgotten all about it the second he saw Rodimus alive. What kind of man speaks that kindly, that… That _intimately_ to someone who just a few weeks prior had shot his child in the spark?!? Did his father even care about him?!? Did he even care about _any of them_?!? Prime or not, which right did he have to offer to end the war by _shaking Megatron’s hand_?!?!? Had he forgotten all that Megatron had done, all the people he had killed, the civilizations that had been exterminated by his movement, the people tortured in his name?!? 

The conversation echoed in his head, no matter what he tried to do to rid himself of it. The soft tones, the fond allusions to intimate conversation in the past, “I know you better than anyone”… 

All through the conversation, Rodimus had tried to ignore the most obvious explanation for that closeness. His father and Megatron had, after all, been seen by the entire planet as each other’s only real equals for four million years. Maybe something like that created some sort of bond even between people who hated each other, he had tried to convince himself. Maybe…

But then there had been that mutual admission that they did _not_ hate each other, and from that moment on Rodimus had been incapable of ignoring the implications. He had tried to sink into denial, but Megatron just _had_ to say that disgusting last sentence, had to make that sickening joke, and the memory of it made the energon turn inside Rodimus again, in a way he had never felt it do while in altmode, and he was getting dizzy…

Pain seared through his systems as he lost control of his body and crashed against a wall. His body returned automatically to robot mode, and he before he could prevent it he was vomiting on the corner.

“Are you alright?” Whispered a gentle voice behind him. Drift. He must have transformed and followed without Rodimus noticing it. He nodded.

“Did the crash hurt you? Do you want me to take you to medibay?”

“No, I’m fine. Really.”

“You’re obviously not.” Drift approached him tentatively, and stopped a couple of steps away. “I think you’re still too hot to touch.”

“Awww, thanks, sweetie. You’re sexy too.”

Drift snorted.

“Feeling better already, I see. Can you walk? Good. Come here.”

He let Drift lead him to the nearest wash-rack and direct him to sit on the floor. Drift turned the faucet just enough to let water flow over his helm and help to cool down his processor. Under the cold jet, Rodimus offlined his optics and let his mind return to his previous line of thought. He would have to face it sooner or later, and as he was now in a safe situation, he might as well get on with it.

That stupid sexual joke had killed all of his hopes of being able to ignore the implications of the conversation he had heard. He didn’t know much about Megatron, but he knew he wasn’t the type of person who directed sexual comments at someone he didn’t at least believe he had a chance to interface with, or… Or with whom he’d interfaced before. And given what Rodimus had recently discovered about his birth…

Megatron could be his father.

The crash and the sickness had drained him of energy to react to that. The thought only made him feel empty and numb. He knew he would have a stronger, more unpleasant reaction later, but for now there was nothing.

Drift’s fingers ran softly down Rodimus’s smokestacks, bringing his attention back to the current situation. He didn’t know if Drift was trying to balance his inner energy, or something, or if the touch was simply meant as an affectionate caress, but regardless, it felt good and gave him something positive to focus on.

“Roddy, what happened? I know that conversation was upsetting, but the way you reacted… It was extreme even for you. And I’ve never seen your aura look like that.”

Despite the situation, Rodimus smiled. Trust Drift to measure his mental state by his _aura_ , after everything else that had just happened.

“Not now, Drift.” He took his hand and gently squeezed his fingers. “Thank you for coming for me. I need to clean that mess on the corridor and head back for the command reunion, but I’ll tell you everything after I get back from that, ok?”

He really would. Not only because Drift was his partner and best friend, but because he knew he might think of some questions that only someone who knew Megatron well could answer.

“You’re going to the meeting?!?”

“I have to. I’m in high command, am I not? And if I don’t go, it’ll just be Dad and the people who stayed on Earth. They’re coming via hologram, I have to be th…”

“Roddy, you’re sick and you just had a crash. People would understand.”

“I want to be there when the decision is made,” Rodimus as much as barked back. Drift drew back from him, startled, but then nodded melancholically.

“Fair enough. And before you ask again, no, I have no last messages for Megatron if you decide to kill him. I still need to talk to Ratchet, so when you need me I’ll be either in medibay or back at our quarters. Good luck at the meeting, and be careful to not say anything you won’t be able to take back.”

Anger burned again inside Rodimus at that last remark- why should _he_ be the one to watch what he said- but it died down as he remembered that Drift didn’t know the entire situation.

The time between being left alone at the wash racks and arriving at the meeting was a blur, though Rodimus was fairly certain he’d cleaned up the corridor and made sure someone would check the wall he’d crashed in. At the meeting room he sat quietly by Bee’s hologram and killed time by pretending to be interested in news from Earth.

His father was the last person to enter the room. Unsuspecting of the mistake he’d made earlier, and of the commotion it had caused, he opened the reunion in the usual way. Magnus was in his element, and juridical technobabble soon took over the conversation. Prowl quoted Xaaron, Bumblebee raised diplomatic concerns about how each possible decision would be seen by the rest of the galaxy, and the discussion extended itself. Rodimus mostly listened quietly, not trusting himself to speak, just waiting for the time to cast his vote.

“At the risk of forfeiting the air of emotional detachment that I’ve spent years cultivating, I say just execute the scumbag,” said Prowl, and Rodimus found himself in the rare position of agreeing with him. “An injection of rust to the brain, a single scraplet taken orally- whatever it takes. Just kill him, and kill him quickly.”

“Given that execution is permissible in law, I have to say I echo Prowl’s sentiments,” voted Ultra Magnus. “Megatron is, quite frankly, too dangerous to live.”

“Wait a second!” Protested Bee, because _of course_ he would be the one to turn the discussion away from the direction that pleased Rodimus. “Kill him, and you risk turning him into a martyr! The Decepticons have been fragmenting for some time now. Executing their founding member might give them an excuse to regroup. Besides, I… I don’t think it’s **right**! It’s not the Autobot way! I vote for imprisonment.”

“I don’t recall putting this to a vote,” said Optimus, in a cold tone that was most uncharacteristic of him. “I appreciate your **advice** , everyone, but the decision is mine.”

“Whoa, wait a minute, Dad! Are you sure that’s appropriated?”

“Bumblebee has a point, Optimus, perhaps you should…”

“It’s Megatron! This rests with me.” Optimus proclaimed, in a tone that would admit no discussion if the earlier scene hadn’t happened. As it was, the attempt to shut down the discussion only revived Rodimus’s anger.

“With respect, Father,” he said, attracting surprised looks from the others, who weren’t used to seeing him use that tone with Optimus, “how do we know that… Hum, let me start again. How can we be **confident** that you’ll make the right decision?”

“I’m sorry?” Optimus said in a dangerous tone that Rodimus hadn’t heard since he was a teenager. But he refused to balk. He wasn’t a child sneaking out to a party he’d been forbidden to attend for security reasons. He was a grown man, way past the age of being chastised for talking back, especially when it came to matters as important as this.

But still, he found that he could not meet his father’s optics when he spoke.

“You closed the curtains on us back there, but you didn’t shut down the audio feed. We overheard you and Megatron, and…”

“You listened in?!?”

“And to be honest, it was all getting a little… _cozy_.”

No matter how long he lived, Rodimus would never forget the effect those words had on his father. His face contorted in fury, in a way Rodimus had _never_ seen before, and for the first time in his life he felt actually afraid of his dad.

“Get out,” said Optimus, anger making his voice almost too low to be heard. But then he found his vocalizer and shouted the order as loud as he could. “GET OUT! ALL OF YOU! **OUT**!”

Rodimus obeyed hastily. On his way out, he threw a quick glance over his shoulder and saw, to his astonishment, that his father appeared to be crying.

“What the frag was that about?!?” Asked Bumblebee, as his hologram reformed on the corridor. It was yet another mark of the unusualness of the situation. Rodimus hadn’t heard Bumblebee swear since they were kids.

“I…” Rodimus found he could not say it. When Bee inevitably heard about their father conversation with Megatron, he would reach the same conclusion Rodimus had, and Rodimus was not ready to face the look on his brother’s face when that happened. “Ask someone else to tell you, ok, Bee? I really need to be somewhere.”

And ignoring Bumblebee’s disapproving shouts for him to get back, he drove down the corridor again.

The path to the medibay took him once again to the window to Megatron’s cell, and he hesitated as he passed it. He knew that the prisoner must surely be back on the voltage harness, but he felt the sudden urge to see it for himself, as if seeing Megatron locked up and tied to something capable of killing him could somehow help him to feel calmer. Nervously, Rodimus returned to robot mode and approached the window…

And saw his father inside.

This time the audio feed was closed, so Rodimus could not say what the conversation was about. But Megatron was strapped to voltage, and yet the two appeared to be arguing. Suddenly, Megatron laughed as if he had just said something particularly offensive. There was a long pause, and then Rodimus watched in fascination as his father’s hand rose up and activated the power.

Megatron’s body convulsed wildly, thrashing as much as his bonds would allow. He must be in unbelievable pain.

Good, thought Rodimus. He deserved it. Let the shock burn his circuits, let him die in pain. Let the universe be rid of the danger he represented, and let Rodimus be rid of the horrifying suspicions that had taken root in his brain. Let he take solace in the fact that Optimus had murdered Megatron, and use that as a way to begin to forgive his father for the secrets, for the intimate conversation he’d had that afternoon with a mass murderer, and for having let Rodimus in position to suspect that said mass murderer might also be his father.

All of that crossed his brain in a fraction of a second. Then his father looked up, appearing to have sensed his presence, and their optics met. His father’s were hardened and angry, appearing nearly cruel, but that changed the second he saw Rodimus. Startled by something in his son’s expression, Optimus hastened to turn off the machine.

Megatron was still alive, but his body shivered uncontrollably in aftershock. His head hang low, and from Rodimus’s perspective, looking down at him from an upper floor, he suddenly seemed impossibly, terrifyingly helpless and small.

Primus, thought Rodimus, what the frag am I doing?!? Had… Had he just delighted in the torture of a war prisoner? Had he just mentally _cheered_ on his father for attempting to execute someone in a cell? It didn’t matter that it was Megatron, it didn’t matter what he had done… Torture and summary execution were _wrong_. Period. What were he and his father thinking?!? What were they becoming?!? Primus! Wasn’t being beat up by an Autobot while helpless inside a cell precisely what began Megatron’s turn from wide-eyed pacifist political writer to the monster he eventually became? What was his father thinking, recreating that scene?!? What was _he_ doing, approving of it? Just a few hours ago, he had been reflecting on how wrong it would be to harm even Megatron under conditions such as this. How could he have gotten so hardened, so fast, no matter what he’d heard? What was wrong with him? And it would have been shocking and just _wrong_ for his father to do that to _anyone_ , but how could he do it to someone to whom he’d been so tender just a couple of hours before? What kind of fragged up dysfunctional relationship was that?!?

What kind of fragged up dysfunctional relationship could _he_ be the product of…

Turning away from the cell, Rodimus sped up once again in the direction of the medibay. He’d lose his mind if he didn’t discuss all of this with Drift soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll never be over the canon implication that Megatron just voluntarily walked back into the variable voltage harness and let Optimus strap him. 
> 
> I've been wanting to write this from Rodimus's pov since the first time I read Chaos Theory. I hope it turned out good! ^^


	3. Chapter 3

Ratchet was filling some patient files when he was interrupted by the sound of steps that were starting to become almost familiar.

“I’m busy, Drift,” he stated without looking from up his work. As expected, Drift ignored it and took a seat across the desk.

“Thought you’d say that, but whatever it is, it can wait. I have three subjects to discuss with you, and unless a patient comes in dying, I guarantee they’re more urgent than paperwork.”

That got the medic’s attention. Three? That wasn’t the usual pattern of Drift’s interruptions. He saved and closed the files, and finally stared at his visitor.

“What happened?”

“Well, the first subject is what you’re probably expecting. How are you doing?”

Ratchet sighed, rolled optics, and made a motion to return to work, but Drift interrupted him.

“I mean it, Ratchet. You spent three hours alone with Megatron today, and I know from experience how difficult he can be. One time I spent a month lying two berths away from him in medibay, so I know he’s a _nightmare_ as a patient, and with you was probably even worse than his usual. I just wanted to check if you’re alright.”

“I’d believe that speech, and might even be touched by the concern, if you didn’t burst into my office asking about my wellbeing about thrice a week. Do you seriously have nothing better to do, Drift?”

“You overwork, Ratchet. You keep taking care of everyone else and forgetting to take care of yourself, so I’m just…”

“I could say the same about you.”

Drift seemed surprised and found no reply, so Ratchet silently celebrated scoring a point.

“Now, unless those other two subjects are substantially more important than this, I need to…”

“They aren’t about your wellbeing, if that’s what you mean, so I’m sure you’ll find them important,” interrupted Drift. “Subject number two is Rodimus. He’s at the command meeting right now, and I’m sure he’s going to find an excuse to avoid getting examined as soon as they’re done, so I came to preemptively tell on him.”

Ratchet raised an eyebrow.

“Why does Rodimus need such an urgent examination?”

“Oh, nothing. He just flamed spontaneously, went off driving blind, crashed against a wall…”

“What?!?!”

“… and vomited afterwards. I managed to convince him to take a cold shower, but not to skip the meeting. I have a feeling he’ll want to drag me right to our quarters when he gets out of there, but there’s no way I’m going before he lets you give him a check-up. You know how he gets, though, so I thought it would be better if you were already filled in on the situation when he shows up.”

“Why did… All of that happen?!?”

“That would be subject number three. You’re probably the last bot on board who doesn’t know, and you really should before you see anyone else.”

“ _What happened_?”

“Optimus tried to have a private chat with Megatron, but forgot to close the audio feed.”

Ratchet froze. He had never felt more grateful for his extensive experience in keeping a poker face under even the most trying of circumstances. His spark’s glow had changed to a more alert frequency, and he was filled with dread at the thought of what might have happened during that conversation, and the possibility of Rodimus having discovered the truth about his birth in the worst possible way; and yet he was certain that no signs of his panic were visible to Drift. He didn’t flinch even slightly when he heard the information, and his voice was convincingly calm when he spoke.

“Oh? And none of you thought to warn him?”

“We tried, but Rodimus didn’t let us. It’s hard to deny anything to a guy who just overheard his father flirting with someone who recently shot him.”

At this, Ratchet thought it was pretty safe to let out a deep sigh and press his (somewhat stiffening, he noticed with a pang of despair. It was happening more and more often later, and he didn’t know what he would do when they inevitably stopped working) hands to his forehelm. It didn’t seem like the secret was _fully_ out yet, but there would probably have to be some attempt at damage control.

“What exactly did you hear?”

“Nothing that surprised me much, to be honest,” admitted Drift, earning a shocked look from Ratchet. “Megatron is nowhere near as discreet as Optimus, so pretty much everyone in the Decepticon high command knows there’s _some_ history there. I’m sure you know more details than I ever will, though. And that’s fine with me,” he added quickly, when Ratchet seemed about to object. “I didn’t bring the subject up to ask for four million years old gossip. I’m just worried about Rodimus.”

Ratchet nodded, already feeling exhausted just from thinking of the storms those revelations would cause in the upcoming days.

“Thanks for the info, Drift. I suppose neither of us is in for a quiet evening, heh?”

“Not if your stupid friend and my stupid boyfriend both survive that command meeting. Rodimus is too sick for me to stock up on engex, but if I were you I’d…”

And that was when Rodimus burst into the room, in a dreadful state. His plating had little bumps from the crash Drift had described, his spoiler mounts were moving on their own due to stress and were clearly not synchronized, and, worst of all, his optics looked nearly fully drained of their usual glow. He grabbed Drift’s arm and tried to pull him out of his seat, all the while babbling a bunch of agitated nonsense. Drift looked at Ratchet for help, and the CMO took charge.

“Rodimus, Drift told me what happened. I understand your emotional need for a private conversation is currently greater than your physical need for most of the repairs you require, but as CMO I’m forbidding you to leave this room before I give you some emergency care.”

Rodimus’s optics met Ratchet’s, and for a second they looked alive again- alive and furious. Ratchet was startled, but Rodimus’s anger, whatever had caused it, disappeared almost instantly. For the following ten minutes the young man was an unusually collaborative patient, following all of Ratchet’s orders in a quiet, nearly automatic way that really worried the medic.

“Take this first thing tomorrow,” Ratchet said at the end of the exam, pressing medicine in Rodimus’s hand, “and come here for a fuller check-up as soon as possible. _Do not_ speak to your father before I’ve had a chance to patch you up better. You’re free to go.”

As soon as he’d pronounced those words, Rodimus briefly nodded, then grabbed Drift’s hand and ran towards their room without a word. Drift shouted out “thanks!” before catching up to Rodimus’s speed, and soon the sound of their steps disappeared in the distance. Ratchet sighed and informed the staff he was signing out of his shift. Wondering if Optimus would already be at his berthroom’s door waiting to talk to him, or if he’d have time for a quick shower before yet another long night of listening to his friend’s family issues, he took Drift’s advice and made it his first priority to get his hands on a couple of bottles of the best engex on board.

* * *

 

Rodimus barely registered the visit to the medibay or the trip from there to the berthroom. His mind seemed to snap back into focus only when the door closed behind him and at last he found himself alone with Drift. They sat on the floor by the berth, cuddling, as it was their custom when they knew they had an important conversation ahead, and Drift wrapped his arms around him and gently kissed his helm.

“What happened, Sweetspark?”

Much as he’d been waiting to say it, Rodimus struggled to find the words. Saying it aloud would make it real, and he wanted to live a few more seconds with the illusion that perhaps Drift would find the idea laughable, would show him that there was no way his fears could be real, would…

But no. He had to face this. The earlier he said it, the longer they’d have to discuss the topic alone without interruptions.

“On the night I returned to Earth,” he forced himself to say, “my father told me a secret. He confessed that he’s my carrier. I’m not adopted.”

Whatever Drift had been expecting, that wasn’t it. He shifted slightly so they could look at each other, and his expression was one of pure shock.

“Optimus is your carrier?!? But why…” Understanding dawned in his face, and Rodimus shuddered when he saw pity in his optics. “Did he say who your other spark-father is?”

“No.”

After what they’d heard that afternoon, no further explanation was needed. Fearful of what Drift’s reaction might be, Rodimus kept talking without giving him a chance to interrupt; both to make sure to get everything off his chest before there were any comments, and to delay the moment in which he might have to hear that his partner no longer wanted to have anything to do with the potential offspring of his abusive former boss.

“People at the meeting tried to vote on whether to kill Megatron or just imprison him for life, and Dad just… Shut them off. He always encourages debate of every possible subject, if there’s time for it, but today he just said that he appreciated everyone’s advice, but that Megatron was a topic that fell to him alone.” Rodimus laughed in despair. “As if he was the only person who suffered in Megs’s hands. As if we didn’t all lose four million years, countless friends, and any hope of ever achieving mental sanity, because of Megatron’s actions!

My energon was just boiling, Drift. I told him we’d heard the conversation, told him it was getting too cozy for my taste, and he… Yelled at us.” Rodimus felt Drift startle at that. “Yeah, I know, right? He never did that before. He told us to get out of the room, so we did. I… Wanted to go talk to you, but Bee held me back for a while. Then when I passed in front of the cell’s window… Dad was there again. He’d turned off the audio this time, but the curtain was open, and… Megatron seemed to be mocking him, and he… He electrocuted him.”

“What?!? Is… Is Megatron…”

“He’s alive!” Rodimus hurried to say, not wanting Drift to think Optimus had killed a prisoner in his cell. But then, looking down in shame, he was forced to say the whole truth. “But… I don’t know if he would be if I hadn’t shown up. Dad saw me watching, and it made him recover his senses, I think. But… But Drift, I… While I was watching it, I did nothing. I…” Frag it, he’d come this far. He might as well say it all. “I _wanted_ Megatron to die, and I _enjoyed_ seeing him suffer. I don’t know what the frag came over me! I didn’t realize what I was thinking until the damn thing was off, and he was trembling and…” He couldn’t continue talking. He expected Drift to get up and run away from him at any second. When Drift instead tightened his grip around him and softly petted his helm, the shock and relief were enough to make him sob. Drift said nothing until he had calmed down, then kissed the top of his helm.

“Feeling better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“It was nothing.”

“No, I mean… Thank you for not leaving me.”

Pain and shock showed briefly on Drift’s face, and he attempted to disguise it with an obviously fake laugh.

“Leave you? Over this? C’mon, Rodders, I’m not _that_ much of a hypocrite.”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant!”

“Roddy,” Drift said, in a kinder, but still agitated tone, “I murdered countless people. You _know_ that, and you wanted to be with me anyway. So why would you think I could leave you over _one_ short moment when, after a long series of _very_ trying events, you briefly felt something cruel and regretted it almost immediately?!?”

“Because there’s a hole in your sparkcase and I may be the son of the man who put it there! Because when you were barely more than a sparkling, starving in the Dead End, watching your friends die, he took you from the streets and offered you safety and comfort, but _only on the condition that you became his hired assassin!_ You told me you had no last messages for him, wanted nothing to do with him, not even to get closure! If he’s my father…”

“ _It has nothing to do with you_!” Drift interrupted, sounding exasperated. “Sweetspark…  We never talked about this, but I always assumed you saw your spark-family the same way I see mine. There was always a possibility of your birth parents being horrible people, and that possibility will always exist for me. But so what? People who didn’t raise us may have given us a couple of character traits, but they had nothing to do with how we chose to put those traits to use. Don’t you agree? Would _you_ leave me if it turned out that, I don’t know, Sentinel Prime was my father?”

“Of course I wouldn’t!” Rodimus shouted, feeling like an idiot for having offended Drift. “It’s just… Your story with Megatron is really personal, so…”

“You have a lot of personal enemies who are old enough to be my parents. How do you know that none of them are?”

Those words brought sudden clarity to Rodimus’s thoughts. _Of course_ he wouldn’t care if Drift turned out to be the spark-child of any of his enemies! So he supposed it made sense that Drift would feel the same about him and Megatron.

 “I see what you mean. Thank you.” Rodimus leaned up and kissed Drift’s cheek, making him smile.“But… This brings us to my father. The one who raised me, I mean. You can’t deny _he_ has a lot to do with who I am. And I’ve always wanted to be like him, that’s… Never been a secret.”

Drift nodded.

“But now, for the past few days… I don’t know if I even know him anymore! He lied to everyone for millions of years, he’s been flirting with the enemy, and I just saw him _torture_ someone . Someone who was helpless, and with whom, again, he’d been _flirting_ just three hours before!!! The Optimus Prime I thought I knew would _never_ do any of that! So who the frag is he?!? What type of person raised me, what type of person did I spend my life trying to emulate?!? I know I frag things up a lot, but what if is there something serious that I’m fragging out without even noticing, because I’m handling it the way he would?!?”

Drift offlined his optics and did a movement that Rodimus knew indicated he was trying to get his aura to do something soothing, probably to ensure Rodimus didn’t flare up again. Rodimus didn’t know how much he believed in the whole aura thing, but the relief over his boyfriend still wanting to be with him was too great for him to do anything but indulge him. He leaned against Drift and did soon feel calmer, although there was no way of telling if it was because the technique had worked or simply because he was taking the time to enjoy the proximity he’d been fearing to lose.

“Better?” Drift asked after a while, and Rodimus was forced to nod. With a satisfied smile, Drift took his hand and looked earnestly into his optics.

“Roddy, I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through. I don’t have parents, and there is no one in my life to whom I look up even half as much as you look up to Optimus. But from an outsider’s perspective, I don’t think anything he did is _as_ bad as it seems to you. Let’s start with the shock. You said Megatron was talking. What if he threatened you and Bumblebee again? Didn’t your father try to kill him when he confessed he’d shot you? I thought you were fine with that.”

“I was, but that was an impulsive moment, right after he’d been told I was dead! Megatron has been threatening the whole universe, and acting on those threats, for four million years! I don’t see why a specific, unsubstantial threat would be enough to make Dad decide to torture a prisoner!”

“Because they’d just been flirting a few hours before,” Drift said simply. Confused, Rodimus stared at him. “They’d just had an amicable conversation, alluding to enjoyable moments they shared in the past… Optimus was probably feeling closer to him than he’d felt in who knows how long. If Megatron boasted over what he did to you, or threatened you and your brother, so soon after that, it may have rattled Optimus badly enough for him to do what he did.”

Hearing that description of his father’s relationship with Megatron almost made Rodimus feel nauseous again.

“I suppose that makes sense,” he admitted, against his will. Then, hesitantly, “Drift, you… You don’t seem as surprised as everyone else about the way they talked to each other.”

Drift hesitated, and Rodimus pressed on.

“Do you know something that I don’t?”

“I think I do, but I don’t want you to panic.”

“Wow, thanks! Those words are famous for their soothing effect!”

“I mean I don’t want you to take what I’ll say as fire-proof evidence that Megatron is your father, because honestly, I think there’s a good chance he isn’t.”

Hope blossomed in Rodimus’s spark.

“You do? Why?”

“A couple of reasons. First off, he would never knowingly shoot his own child. I’m sure of that. If he’s your father, he doesn’t know it.”

“But my other father _doesn’t_ know about me,” said Rodimus, hope deflating. “That’s the only info on him I managed to get out of Dad.”

“That’s odd, though, isn’t it? I mean, unless he gave you a false birthday…”

“He didn’t,” Rodimus replied, shivering just to remember the moments in which he’d thought that might be a possibility. “I asked. _That_ would have been a mindfrag…”

Drift laughed.

“So that means it’s not hard for your other dad, whoever he is, to do the math. Even though Optimus passed you as adopted, wouldn’t you be suspicious if you had an ex who suddenly showed up with a baby who was the perfect age to be yours?”

“Yeah, but… Looking at it from this angle worries me too, because… Ugh, I don’t like to remember it, but before shooting me, Megatron offered me a place in the Deception army.”

“He did what?!?” To Rodimus’s anger, Drfit sounded more amused than indignant.

“It was really weird. He kept saying he was glad to see me, he guessed I’d had an argument with Dad, and he asked me about it in this, like, concerned school counselor voice. Anyone would think he really cared about me.  I’d forgotten about it- been really busy lately- but remembering it now… Why else would he be so kind to me?”

“Honestly?” Drift’s voice was soft, but Rodimus noticed his hand had moved to hold his sword hilt in a loose grasp, which he usually only did when he was nervous and wanted to draw comfort from the object. The mention of the Decepticon army must have made him uncomfortable. “That’s not that unusual. I got a variant of that speech too, most Decepticons who were personally recruited by him did. Yours sounds a bit more personal, but that may just be due to you being Optimus’s son.”

“ _Why_?!?” Rodimus cried impatiently. “ _Why_ would that explain Megatron treating me familiarly?!? What do you know about them?!?”

“I don’t _know_ anything, Roddy. It’s just… Look, do you remember those moments during the war in which a bunch of people would gather in a basis a few hours before a battle? And how everyone would be so anxious and tense, but also so tired from the endless wait that nothing felt completely real?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I spent a few hours like those in the same room as Megatron. He’s usually a very reserved person, but no one is fully in control of themselves at moments like that. So sometimes we’d be discussing battle strategies and he’d talk about your father in a way that...” Drift paused, searching for an appropriate expression, “That made everyone uncomfortable. He never said anything about having a past together, and until this afternoon I swear I had no idea if his feelings were in any way requited. But… I did know he had feelings for Optimus.”

“Drift, if you don’t get more specific _right now_ about what you mean by ‘feelings’ I think my processor may overheat again.”

“Ok, ok, calm down! Look, I’m not going to repeat much of what he said, ok? It was about your _dad_ , telling you would be gross. But I can tell you that Megatron is definitely attracted to him. _Very_ attracted. And that he admires him a lot. Criticism of Optimus’s politics was always encouraged, no matter how violently it was expressed, but no Decepticon with functional brain circuits ever criticized Optimus as a person if there was a chance of Megatron overhearing him. His personality, his abilities, his intelligence, his appearance… Anything besides his actions against the Decepticon cause was beyond criticism. And there were times when we were discussing who would do what in an upcoming battle and Megatron would say ‘Optimus is mine.’ He meant us to take it in a ‘no one but me is allowed to kill my nemesis’ way, but his voice and his expression whenever he said that indicated… Something else.”

Rodimus stared fixedly at the floor. Apart from the conversation that afternoon, he had never felt more uncomfortable in his life.

“Says something about old Megs, doesn’t it?” He muttered at last. “That he can have it bad for someone, but not let it stop him from shooting their kid.”

“Rodimus, are you…?”

Rodimus looked up at Drift and impulsively blurted out,

“Tell me about Megatron.”

Drift blinked, surprised, but pulled Rodimus closer and nodded.

“What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know, just… Anything that could help me to understand why…” the next words came out with difficulty, “why my father loves him. I was trying to convince myself that he doesn’t, but if half the Decepticon army knows about Megatron’s feelings, Dad must know too, and he wouldn’t encourage him in the way he did today if he didn’t feel the same way. I think of Megatron, I think of an absolute monster. I think of everyone that he killed, the planets he massacred, and I have flashbacks, and just… Nothing you tell me is going to change that. But I understand why _you_ admired him once, and…”

“You do?” There was a hint of nervousness in Drift’s voice, and Rodimus rushed to hold his hand reassuringly.

“ _I do_. You were in a desperate situation, the system had failed you _completely_ , and the only adult who’d ever given you a sense of structure and made you feel safe had just been murdered by the police right in front of you. Megatron offered you a future, a long-term plan that came with the promise to avenge Gasket and all of your other friends. No one could blame you for being grateful.”

Rodimus had good reason for emphasizing the word “completely”. He was thinking of the day when his father and Ratchet had rescued Drift from an attack and saved his life, but then allowed him to wander back into the streets without any plan other than renting himself out at a relinquishment clinic. Rodimus didn’t _blame_ them for that, but only because he knew it had been the day of Nominus’s murder. He knew them well enough to know that they would have done more if they hadn’t been distracted by such gigantic news and by the subsequent series of tragedies that culminated in Senator Shockwave’s arrest.

But the fact still remained that, for Drift, the lesson that day had been that even the nicest and most heroic people who worked for the government wouldn’t go further than helping him out of an immediate dangerous situation and then watching him walk out to fall back into all the same traps. No, he would never blame Drift for being enticed by Megatron’s offer. But Optimus…

“But my father is a different story,” Rodimus continued. “I’ve flipped through Megatron’s writing and I can see why Dad admired him at first, but I don’t understand how that admiration could have continued after he got to know him as a person. So… Please, Drift. If you know _anything_ that could help to convince me that there was a time in which falling in love with him wouldn’t make my father a horrible person, tell me about it before I explode.”

Drift went quiet for a long time. He seemed to be thinking about where to begin, and it took everything in Rodimus not to start screaming. At last, he spoke.

“Like I said, Megatron is really private. He only said those things about your father when he was extremely tired and not thinking straight. At any other time, it was almost impossible to know what he was thinking or feeling, unless he found it useful to show us. But the way he talked to Optimus today makes me certain that he’s not _that_ reserved when they’re alone, so maybe there are things about him… Good things… That only Optimus knows.

I can tell you that Megatron was kind to us, young recruits, and that I still believe that kindness was genuine. He never talked about his own past, but we could tell he’d struggled as much as we had, and that made all of his promises more believable. He didn’t make things sound like they would be easier than they would, he _understood_ where we were coming from. And he took good care of us. We were well fed, had time to recharge properly, and if a medic thought a new recruit wasn’t in condition to start training right away, they were given the time to recover their health first.

Sure, after a person had been in the army for a while, he got… Rougher. And even at the beginning, he was never as nice to me as Gasket had been. But I had the sense, and some of my friends agreed, that at least in the beginning Megatron was trying his best to treat us well, but didn’t know how. I mean, none of us had much structure in our lives, but… I had my brothers. However briefly, I had Gasket. We knew a couple of people who, as kids, hadn’t been able to join gangs or to find an adult to look after them, and they grew up to be _much_ worse at interpersonal interaction than we were. And that was the vibe we got from Megatron. I don’t _know_ if he grew up all alone, but if he didn’t, whoever raised him probably wasn’t the affectionate type. I’m not saying that Megatron wasn’t abusive, or excusing what he did to our sparkcases, the beatings he used to give Starscream, or that he pressured me to…” Drift stopped mid-sentence, took a deep breath, and went on without completing the allusion to his time as Deadlock. “But _some_ of what you perceive as unbelievable rudeness and carelessness towards others is probably a result of growing up without references for how to interact with other people. He _is_ capable of caring for others, _deeply_ , and when he does, he tries his best to be nice. And I’m sure that’s a side of him your father knows well. And if I’m right and Optimus knows Megatron’s background, he probably appreciates his efforts a lot more than the rest of us can.”

“You may be right,” Rodimus said slowly. “There’s something I forgot to tell you. Tarn used to live at Dad’s orphanage. He was the one who signed the adoption papers.”

Drift’s optics went wide with shock.

“Well… That’s _one_ mystery solved,” he said, with the look of someone putting together a puzzle. “We had no idea where Tarn came from. I used to think Megatron probably knew the spark parents, like he knew Overlord’s. I’d _never_ have imagined him going to an Autobot orphanage. How did that even happen?!?”

“Apparently the orphanage was situated in Nyon, and the Decepticons found it while investigating the rumours about the vamparc ribbons. Megs had the kids taken to his base for safety, and called my father to go get them. By the time Dad arrived, Megatron and the kid had decided they were a family. I’ve been… Struggling to understand how my father could have let Megatron adopt a child, no matter how much the kid might like him. Dad says Megs seemed to adore the sparkling, and you’re telling me that it’s possible he did, but I can’t process that. Not when I know what that child grew up to be under his guidance.”

“Look, Rodimus,” Drift said uncomfortably, “I never interacted much with Megatron’s sons. Overlord is about the most anti-social person you could ever meet, and Tarn, as you can imagine, preferred to stick with his own crew.” They both shuddered at the indirect mention of the DJD. “And of course, I was never privy to any family moments.” Drift’s voice dropped, gently. “I can’t tell you what Megatron is like as a father.”

Rodimus nodded.

“What I can tell you, and I don’t know if this helps or if it makes things worse, is that his sons love him. I don’t know why, I have no idea what their private interactions are like, but it couldn’t be more clear that, as much as either of them can love someone, they love their father. It’s not a healthy relationship. About half of the atrocities each of them committed were about trying to be recognized as the favorite son, though I can tell you that’s _not_ something Megatron purposefully encouraged. It angered him like hell, but he obviously failed to teach them better ways to get his attention. Sometimes the attention their horrific initiatives gets them is really negative, but they seem to think it’s worth it. And… I’m sure they wouldn’t get away with half the shit they do if Megatron didn’t love them too.”

Rodimus was silent for a long time, trying to absorb all of the horrifying nuances of what he’d just heard, and trying to imagine what it must be like to live in such a twisted family dynamic.

“What’s Overlord’s story?” He asked at last. “I don’t think I’ve heard it. You said Megatron knew the spark-parents?”

“I don’t know if he knew both, but Overlord’s carrier was a gladiator, and he and Megatron were well-matched and got along relatively well. At the end of his gladiatorial career, Megatron hurt him really badly and caused some damage the arena medics weren’t able to get repaired. A couple of decades after that the guy died in battle, under circumstances that wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for that wound. Megatron felt guilty and decided that adopting his friend’s kid was the least he could do. Of course, all of that happened long before I joined. But I heard from people who were there at the time that Overlord was already a violent child. The older Decepticons used to argue about whether he’d become like that because he spent his early childhood in an extremely violent environment, or if it was just who he was. But I didn’t pay much attention to those chats. My friends and I just stayed out of his way.”

“Young Overlord sounds like a terrible influence for little Damus. Megatron should have thought of his other son before taking in a kid like that.” Rodimus said drily.

“And leave Overlord to fend by himself?”

“Of course not! But he could have found him parents who didn’t already have a sparkling younger than him!”

“Like I said,” repeated Drift, “he felt guilty over the death of the boy’s father.”

Rodimus shook his head.

“Sorry, Sweetspark, I can’t buy the idea of Megatron feeling guilty over anything.”

“That’s understandable,” Drift admitted. “But I can, and I’m telling you this story because you wanted to hear positive things about Megatron. You don’t have to believe in his good intentions, no matter what I tell you. The important thing is that you understand _your father_ believes in them. And you know how he is, don’t you? He always clings to the tiniest possibility of there being good in someone.”

Rodimus was forced to nod. He’d heard the stories about young Orion Pax waiting outside of the Senate door day in and day out, desperately trying to get an emotional reaction out of a shadowplayed man, stubbornly refusing to admit that his lover was gone. Megatron had never been shadowplayed. If Rodimus and Drift had the details right, Optimus had simply been mistaken about the type of person Megatron was. With all that he knew of his father, was it surprising, then, that he would cling to any goodness he’d ever perceived in Megatron even harder than he had clung to the Senator?

“I think I understand it,” he said, “but it’s still not enough for me to forgive him for denying the rest of us a voice in what happens to our worst enemy.”

“I’m not going to defend him on that point. He was wrong. That happens sometimes, you know.”

That last sentence was said in a tone of affectionate teasing, and Rodimus sighed. Bumblebee wasn’t the only one who thought he over-idolized his father, then. Did Optimus have some really obvious flaws he had never seen? Why had no one ever warned him about that before?!? That might have made the current blow a bit easier to cope with!

Or, at least, part of the current blow. He couldn’t think of _any_ scenarios in which the possibility of being Megatron’s son would be less shocking or less horrifying. And even though he was beginning to understand how Orion Pax might have become sparked in the first place…

“If Megatron turns out to be my father, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive Dad for not telling me as soon as I was old enough to understand,” he muttered quietly. Drift kissed his helm.

“Look, I _really_ don’t think Megs is your father. If he were, he’d have done the math and demanded a clarification from Optimus ages ago. And besides… I think anything that happened between them probably happened a long time before you were conceived. I remember how things were right before the war started. Optimus- or, rather, Orion Pax- was dedicating all of his squad’s forces to arresting the Decepticons. The Autobots were openly referring to the Decepticon movement as terrorism, and not a day went by without some sort of fight in the streets. Things were ugly, Roddy, and your father and Megatron were already at the foreground of a lot of the violence. Of course, impulsive angry frags may happen at any time. But I think that if they were the type of people that have no problem merging when things between them are that tense, they wouldn’t have stopped at verbal flirting today.”

“Are you sure nothing happened after we left?”

“Yeah, I asked Bluestreak.”

Rodimus shuddered at the thought of the team openly discussing that topic, then sighed.

“I _hope_ you’re right. But with the way Megatron talked today, it seems like things didn’t get _that_ bad between them until he killed Zeta.”

“Yeah, but there’s a world of difference between things being bad enough to fully drop contact, and things being good enough to _spark merge_ ,” Drift replied, in a slightly embarrassed tone. He and Rodimus interfaced practically every night, but they’d only merged once. It’d been great, but they’d both agreed it had also been _way_ too intense and it’d be better not to repeat the experience until they were sure they were ready for that level of intimacy. “I mean, I know there are people who aren’t that reserved about merging, but… Megatron and Optimus are both _really_ private people. And I don’t know, maybe your father wasn’t like that before he became Prime, but from what I know of Megatron, I think I can guarantee he was always really closed.”

Rodimus was silent. He was grateful for that speech, but somehow couldn’t bring himself to believe in it. After all he’d gone through for the past weeks, it seemed foolish to hope for anything good.

Seeing that his mood hadn’t improved, Drift tried another angle.

“But let’s say Megatron _is_ your father. If so, I agree it was wrong for Optimus to keep that from you. But you know that if he did that, it was to protect you, right? Back on Earth, you admitted to Bumblebee that you’re protective of your father. Where do you think you got _that_ from? I think most Autobots would say this wouldn’t be the only time Optimus made an error because he’s overprotective.”

“What a fancy way to say I’m spoiled.”

“Hey, would you focus on the topic? What I’m saying is that your father loves you. And you love him, and the two of you always got along _so_ well… You have every right to be angry, he fragged up and owes you a lot of explanations, but… Like I said earlier, be careful not to say anything that could cause permanent damage, ok?”

Irritation built up inside Rodimus, but the sadness in Drift’s voice didn’t allow it to grow. There was such a sense of longing in it that he couldn’t help stopping to reflect on all of the good moments he and his father had shared. His father had always been so caring and loving, so understanding… Rodimus hadn’t been an easy sparkling to raise, and he _still_ wasn’t an easy person to deal with. He was well aware of that. He was impulsive, arrogant, had trouble relying on others, and was easily manipulated through flattery and provocation. And always, when his actions had negative consequences, sooner or later he ended up running to his father for comfort and for reassurance that he wasn’t a horrible person. And for four million years, his father had always treated him kindly and with what, in retrospect, was a surprising amount of patience. Hadn’t that been part of why Rodimus had, apparently, over-idolized him his entire life?

The discoveries from the past few weeks had been horrifying. That was an unchangeable fact. But it suddenly occurred to him that he had- hopefully- found out all of his father’s deepest secrets all at once. What would _his_ darkest errors look like to someone who discovered all of them at the same time? What would anybody’s?

He was still angry, mostly at not having been told the truth before, and at the fact that his father still hadn’t got in touch with him after the meeting, even though he _had_ to know Rodimus was wondering if Megatron might be his father. That possibility still made him nauseous, and he couldn’t imagine ever feeling any differently about it. If anything, the information he’d just gotten about the dictator’s relationship with his sons had worsened the situation.

But on every other aspect, the conversation with Drift had helped him to put things in perspective. His opinion of his father would never be the same again, and neither would their relationship. He was _dreading_ the moment when they’d talk again. But… Four million years of a good relationship don’t get erased like that. It was still difficult to believe things between them would ever be alright, but he was beginning to feel a bit more optimistic about their future.

Besides, the day had brought him one source of consolation.

“At least, if Megatron is my father, I know it was consensual.”

Drift looked at him with sympathy.

“That’s been worrying you?”

Rodimus was startled. He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud.

“Still is,” he admitted quietly.

Drift caressed his spoiler mount.

“Look, it’s been a hell of a day. What do you say we put an end to this heavy conversation and go watch some mind-numbing tv?”

“I’m more in the mood for some action-packed videogame.”

“Deal.”

They set up a game, and spent the next two hours exploding each other’s characters, cursing at each other and, eventually, even laughing. The game demanded the attention of every circuit in their brains, and the desire to get a score higher than Drift’s ended up driving all other worries from Rodimus’s mind.

Then, right as he mastered a combo he’d been attempting for months, his communicator rang.

“Rodimus, it’s Ratchet. Your father wants to talk to you. I told him I’m not allowing that conversation to happen before I’ve given you a full check-up, so please proceed to medibay as soon as possible.”

Rodimus tensed up, and his character would have become easy prey if Drift hadn’t also put down his control.

“I’m sure they’ll understand if you prefer to recharge…” he started, but Rodimus shook his head and reached for the communicator.

“Hey, Ratchet. I’ll be at medibay in ten minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter took a lot longer to write than I'd thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Optimus was shaking as he left the cell.

“You should have stopped me,” he said, in a broken voice, as soon as the door had closed and there was no danger of Megatron hearing him. “Omega? The VH. You should’ve cut the power.”

“I did,” replied the ship. “Most of what you saw was aftershock. Without my intervention, chances of survival were of 1,3%.”

“1,3?” Optimus felt his knees give, and braced himself against the nearest wall. 1,3%. He had just almost killed the man he professed to love.

“Will he be alright?”

“He will,” Omega assured him. “There’s been no permanent damage.”

Optimus nodded and allowed himself to fall sitting on the floor. Lost to reality, he stayed there until a voice softly called his name.

It was Ironhide. Optimus flinched. He was glad for his friend’s concern, but the last time he had seen Ironhide had been early in that morning, when he had naively told him that he had hopes Megatron might have surrendered because he was tired of the war. That perhaps Starscream’s failure as leader of the Decepticons for the past two years had made Megatron question the cause, and that they might achieve an agreement and end the war for good.

Primus, his head had been so full of dreams that morning. Megatron shaking his hand and agreeing to negotiate a peace treaty. Himself eloquently convincing the Autobots to let Megatron live, do penance for his crimes, and eventually be released. He and Megatron, sitting together on some nice domestic setting, Megatron smiling upon being told that they had a son. He had even gone so far as to dream of the two of them finding a way to tell the truth to Rodimus. One that didn’t result in the boy hating both of them.

His friends were right, they always had been. Roller, Ratchet, Ironhide… They’d all warned him time and time again that he was too naïve for his own good, and always he had refused to listen, taking the fact that they’d been mistaken about Shockwave as an excuse to dismiss all of the excellent advice they’d always given him in every other occasion. Would this ever end? Would he ever learn not to let his stupid optimism rule his decisions?

The worst part was that his morning conjectures hadn’t been completely wrong. He was still certain Megatron was having doubts about the Decepticon cause. But far from seeking peace, he’d come to Optimus to have his hateful actions validated; to have the brutal assault that had first kindled his rage repeated, but this time at the hands of the very person who had saved him the first time, the person who had proclaimed to love him, the person from whom an attack like that would hurt the most.

And Optimus had seen right through that little game the second Megatron’s speech turned overly hateful. He should- and he _could_ \- have kept his head, refused to be dragged into it, and insisted on keeping the conversation on the topic of peace, and ways in which he and Megatron might work together to achieve it. But instead he had allowed himself to be provoked, had played right into Megatron’s hands, and _Rodimus had seen him._ What was Rodimus thinking of him now?!? The cruelty he’d seen in his son’s optics burned bright in his processor, erasing every other thought. Just how much had he failed his child?

“Optimus?”

The repeated calling made him finally look up at Ironhide.

“Are you alright?”

“No,” he admitted, causing a shocked look to appear on his friend’s face. Optimus didn’t often admit to being unwell. Carefully, Ironhide sat by his side and stared steadily ahead, not wanting Optimus to feel too pressured to speak.

“Did you find out what Megatron wanted?”

“I think so. And I think I just gave it to him…”

“Optimus, he’s a skilled manipulator…”

“I know that better than anyone. I know him _and_ his games, Ironhide. It’s my own damn fault I’m still letting him drag me into them after four million years.” He sighed. “I presume you saw what happened. Have you seen Rodimus?”

“No. I just saw the flash from the electricity. I ran over here as fast as I could, but there was no one else in the corridor when I arrived. Do you mean Rodimus saw the shock?”

Optimus nodded, and Ironhide fought not to look panicked.

“He’s dealt with Megatron before. I’m sure he’ll understand…”

“He shouldn’t. There’s no excuse for what I just did.”

Ironhide reluctantly nodded, then asked if there was anything he could do to help Optimus.

“I think I should probably talk to a therapist,” said Optimus, “but since we don’t have one on board, I’ll go to Ratchet’s and see if there’s something he can give me to help process all that happened today.”

There wasn’t, and they both knew it, but this was Optimus’s polite way of saying he needed to go talk to Ratchet. He didn’t want Ironhide to feel that his help and counsel weren’t appreciated, because they very much were, but the truth was that Ratchet was the only one who would understand the extent of Optimus’s troubles. He needed advice on how to talk to Rodimus from someone who knew that Megatron was the boy’s father and that Rodimus was probably suspicious of the fact. Optimus trusted Ironhide with his life, but he and Ratchet had deemed it safer to keep that secret on a need-to-know-basis, and Optimus wasn’t about to break that pact.

Fortunately, Ironhide didn’t seem offended. After making sure Optimus was in condition to get himself to Ratchet’s quarters alone, he reminded Optimus to call him if he needed anything, and drove back down the corridor.

Optimus made his way to Ratchet’s berthroom quite automatically, and was surprised to see his friend standing outside the door.

“Ratchet, I’m sorry to drop on you unannounced, but…”

Ratchet smirked.

“Don’t worry, Drift and Rodimus announced you.”

Confused, Optimus did a double take.

“What?”

“They let me know about some of what you’ve been up to today. Not much, but enough for me to know you’d be dropping by.”

“You spoke to Rodimus?!? When?!? How is he?!?”

“He’ll be alright,” said Ratchet, seeming surprised by Optimus’s vehemence. “To be honest, right now I’m more worried about _you_. Come in. I’ll pour you a drink and then you’ll tell me what happened.”

Ratchet's tone was the firm one he used to give instructions to disorientated patients, and Optimus was glad to let him take charge of the conversation. He sat on the couch and waited quietly while Ratchet locked the door and prepared engex for both of them.

“Take a sip, it’s medicinal,” Ratchet said, sitting by his side and handing him his glass. Optimus obeyed and felt his head slightly clearer.

“Alright,” said Ratchet. “What happened?”

“How much do you know?”

“I know that you and Megatron flirted a bit without realizing that the audio was on, that most of the ship overheard you, and that whatever you said was mild enough to not surprise Drift, but damning enough to make Rodimus sick.”

“What?!?”

Coming from anyone else, Optimus would take that as an expression, but coming from his medic he knew it had to be literal. Ratchet’s tone became gentler.

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew. After hearing your conversation he was stressed enough to drive recklessly and have a crash. But I’ve given him a check-up and he’s alright, you don’t have to worry.”

“He’d already crashed when he went to the command meeting?”

“Yes.”

Optimus put his glass on the table and buried his face on his hands.

“So I yelled at him after he had a crash. And _then_ he saw… Oh my God.”

He sensed Ratchet move, startled.

“You yelled at him? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“He admitted he’d spied on my conversation with Megatron, and accused us of getting too ‘cozy.’  I panicked. I couldn’t tell whether or not he’d figured out that Megatron is his father, and I got so desperate to be alone and think of what to do that I ended up yelling at all of them to leave.”

“And what happened next?”  

The tension in Ratchet’s voice made Optimus wonder in which state Rodimus had been in when he dropped by the medibay.

“I was an idiot,” he sighed. “When I went to Megatron’s cell this morning I was hoping that his surrender meant that he wanted the war to end, and due to that I was nicer to him than I should have been. It resulted in the most... Intimate conversation we’ve had in millennia. I felt encouraged to offer him peace, and was deeply upset when he refused. Finding out that, out of all of the conversations I’ve had with him through the war, the crew overheard _this_ one, made me so angry that I… Took it out on him. I marched right back into the cell, and this time I was more aggressive than I should. I asked him what I _really_ wanted to know: whether or not he regrets anything he did.”

“I gather from your tone that he doesn’t.”

“I have no idea. I still honestly think that he _may_. But if he does regret anything, he wishes he didn’t.” Optimus pressed his fingers harder against his helm. “I figured out why he surrendered, Ratchet. He’s having doubts about the Decepticons, the war, the whole thing, just as I hoped he was. But instead of seeking peace, he decided to seek a reason to keep fighting. So when I asked him if he regretted anything, he said he didn’t. But he said it with such violence, in such vicious terms, that it was obvious it was a rehearsed speech, prepared to get a specific reaction out of me. And even though I realized what he was doing, I still let him get to me and reacted exactly as he wanted me to.”

“Optimus, what did you do?”

The alarm in Ratchet’s voice was clear. Deciding that he’d already been too much of a coward that day, Optimus forced himself to put down his hands and look at his friend.

“I activated the voltage harness. He would be dead if Omega hadn’t interfered.”

Ratchet’s optics widened. Ever the professional, he ran to a monitor on his wall and typed wildly, getting Omega to send him Megatron’s vitals, which could be monitored through equipment connected to the VH. Optimus watched with baited breath, and felt some weight leave his shoulders when Ratchet sighed in relief.

“He’s alright,” said Ratchet, returning to the couch. “He’s recharging now, and I’ll have some medicine sent to him when he wakes. So… How are you doing after all of this?”

“Not well. I haven’t told you the worst part yet. Rodimus saw me torturing Megatron.”

“ _Oh_. That explains why he was so disturbed.”

Optimus’s lips trembled behind the faceplate.

“How much damage did I do to him, Ratchet? He found out that I’m close to his worst enemy, he may be suspecting the truth about his birth, and he saw me _torturing_ someone I care about, all in the same day! He saw one of his parents torture the other, and even if he’s not sure, he probably at least suspects that that was what he saw. Can a person recover from a day like that?”

“Optimus, we’ve both been at war long enough to know that, although there are always scars, people can recover from quite a lot. Rodimus has been rather unlucky lately. He found out too many secrets at once and, I need to be honest, it did take a toll and it will be a while before he feels well again. But he’s resilient, and your relationship is strong. You’ll get through this.”

“Thank you, old friend. I hope you’re right, but right now I can’t see _how_ that would happen.”

“Well,” said Ratchet after a thoughtful pause, “for starters why don’t you tell me how _you_ ’re feeling? I know Rodimus is your main concern, but I think it’d be better for him if you tried to sort out your own feelings before talking to him.”

Optimus sighed.

“That’s a good idea, but I have no idea how I’m feeling. This morning Megatron asked me if I hate him, and I didn’t know how to answer that either. Everything just feels so confusing, Ratchet. I feel… I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore. There is such a huge disconnect between the ways in which different people describe me. The troops see me as this great hero, the Decepticons as the continuation of the monstrous line of Primes that preceded me. The boys see me- or saw me, before the secrets started coming out- as a loving and caring father who they get annoyed with sometimes, but who they know is always acting in what he believes to be their best interests. Megatron somehow manages to compartmentalize and see me both as the love of his life and his worst political enemy without one thing interfering with the other, and I can’t tell you how much I envy him that ability. And I… I don’t know how I see myself anymore. I don’t think I’m a hero, but I hope I’m not doing as badly as Zeta…”

“You’re _not_.”

Optimus laughed, in slight despair.

“Thank you, that’s reassuring.  After millions of years as a war leader, I really _can’t_ tell by myself anymore.”

“Optimus…” Ratchet started, in a concerned tone, but Optimus interrupted, unwilling to stop his rant now that he had started it.

“As for Megatron, I love him… Don’t make that face, Ratchet, you know my feelings for him will never change. But our situation is so complex, and there are so many other feelings that I can’t sort out…  All I know is that, even with everything we have done to each other through the war, what I did today crossed a line. If I had kept a level head and insisted on talking about peace, maybe tried to make plans for how the two of us might create a society that solved the social issues that caused most of his army to rebel against the Senate… Maybe he would have listened. I know he’s as tired of this war as I am. I had a chance, and I ruined it. And then there are the boys… You know what Rodimus went through today, and he’ll tell Bumblebee about it sooner rather than later. What can they think of me now? I failed them. Them, Megatron, Shockwave, the Autobots… I let everyone depend on me, and today has just been a series of evidences of how much I failed all of them.”

Ratchet pat his shoulder and refilled his glass.

“I noticed I’m not in that list of yours. Neither is Ironhide, or any of your other friends.”

“I have no idea how you and the others see me. I know that before the war you saw me as a competent, well intentioned person trying hard to make the world a better place, as a painfully naïve idiot who kept falling hard for the worst possible guys, as a great drinking buddy, and as someone you could count on and trust to lead you through tough situations. Now, I don’t know. I just know you still like me.” He smirked sadly. “And that your opinion about my love life probably hasn’t changed.”

“It hasn’t,” Ratchet admitted. It stung for a second, but then he continued, “neither has my opinion about anything else you listed.”

Optimus stared at him in grateful surprise, and they shared a smile.

“Look, Optimus, it sounds like you’ve been putting too much pressure on yourself. You’re a person. You’re allowed to frag up some times. Today was a bad day, but everyone has a few of these every now and then.” Ratchet hesitated. “Can I be honest?” Optimus nodded. “Back when you were Orion Pax, you weren’t **this** hard on yourself. I think a lot of the self-image problems you’re describing started when you became a Prime. And since the Matrix was the one to put you in this position… Shouldn’t it be able to help you deal with its burdens?”

“I thought you didn’t believe in the wisdom of the Matrix.”

“I don’t. I think there must be a scientific explanation for everything that thing does, and we just haven’t discovered it yet. But still, I can’t deny it’s capable of _some_ form of communication with you. And helping you through moral dilemmas is supposed to be its purpose, isn’t it?”

“It is. But I’m afraid I’m already relying on it far too much…” Optimus paused, surprised, as an epiphany hit him. “Wait… I think _that_ may be the problem. I’ve become too dependent on it, to the point where I’m not sure anymore which of my actions are my own. Maybe that’s why I’m losing my sense of self!”

Ratchet looked extremely alarmed.

“It would never have occurred to me that that might be a side effect of wearing that thing for too long. Do you think you’d feel better if you started taking some breaks from it?”

“Maybe…” Optimus hesitated. He’d never admitted this to anyone, but Ratchet’s religious skepticism made him the person least likely to judge him for this confession. “Bonding with the Matrix _hurts_. It hurt like hell the first time it happened, and it hasn’t fully stopped hurting ever since.”

“You mean you’ve been in chronic pain for four million years?!?” Oh, frag, he had sent Ratchet into angry medic mode. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?!?”

“Because I don’t think you could have helped. There’s no physical cause for this pain. I know that because it has never diminished with any pain medicine you gave me through the war. I always interpreted it as a warning, as if the Matrix was asking me ‘are you sure you want this responsibility? Are you **sure**?’”

“And you’re no longer sure?”

“I am. I’m not going to run away from the responsibility at this point. But I’m worried I may have forgotten how to do this job properly, grown too used to just doing as the Matrix says. If serving as a puppet for the Matrix was all it took, being a Prime would be too easy…”

“Not if it comes with chronic pain,” Ratchet objected. Optimus ignored it.

“I need to regain my sense of self, and to make sure that without the Matrix I’m still…” He hesitated. “Ratchet, I hate to ask you for _yet another_ huge favor, but could you watch the Matrix for me for a while?”

The idea clearly made Ratchet uncomfortable, but he agreed.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to talk to Rodimus. I can’t risk letting the Matrix influence how I handle my personal problems. And then, depending on how that conversation goes, I’m going to talk to Megatron again. I just realized that, apart from his surrender back on Earth and his admission that he’d shot Roddy, I haven’t talked to him without the Matrix on my chest since we were together. I don’t know if it’ll make any difference, but… I feel I should try.”

“Good luck,” said Ratchet, accepting the Matrix when Optimus handed it to him. “Are you feeling well enough to talk to them?”

“No. But if I wait until I’m feeling _well_ over what I did today, I’ll never see either of them again.”

“Alright. Just try not to be too hard on yourself, ok? I’ve seen everything you did for Rodimus all of these years, from the moment I told you you were sparked. Today’s mistakes were bad, but they don’t erase everything that happened before. You’re a wonderful father, to him and to Bumblebee. If he’s too angry, pick some good memories and cling to them through the conversation, will you?”

Optimus nodded, reluctantly.

“I don’t suppose you have any advice for talking to Megatron?”

Ratchet did his best not to glare.

“Sorry, old friend. I can’t give advice about things I don’t understand.”

“Fair enough.”

“But if you need anything, even if just moral support, I can be immediately reached via the cell’s medical computer.”

Optimus stood up and hugged him.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“Hey, don’t mention it.  If I thanked you for everything _you_ ’ve ever done for me, we’d be here until tomorrow. We’re friends, Prime. It’s all fine.”

* * *

 

Rodimus had never felt this nervous to knock on his father’s door before.

“Yes?”

“It’s Rodimus. Ratchet said you wanted to see me.”

The door opened, and his father nervously gestured for him to take a seat.

“How are you?” He asked anxiously, sitting at the other side of the desk. “Ratchet told me you had a crash.”

“I’m ok, Father. Ratchet just finished patching me up.”

“I’m glad.” Optimus’s hands closed over the desk, and he looked as if he was wondering where to start. “Rodimus, I owe you a thousand apologies for everything that happened today. I have no excuses and won’t attempt to justify myself. All I can do is tell you that I’m extremely sorry, and… And let you ask any questions you want about today’s events. I promise to answer them honestly.”

Rodimus hesitated. He had been nervous that his father might still be angry, or that his attitude during the conversation would lower Rodimus’s opinion of him even further. Finding him apologetic made Rodimus glad beyond words, but was not something he had prepared himself for. As for the offer to ask anything he wished to know… It was surprising and extremely tempting, but his processor was still feeling warmer than usual, and he decided to be realistic.

“You know what I’ve been wondering since I heard that conversation,” he said slowly. “But I don’t want an answer to that tonight. There’s just… been too much happening at once. I don’t think I couldn’t handle either a confirmation or a denial today.”

His father seemed surprised, but nodded and kept his expression inscrutable. Rodimus pursed his lips and went on.

“But there is one thing I need to know… If he’s ever set free, are you two getting back together?”

“No. At least not unless he severely changes his attitude, to the point in which he earns yours and Bumblebee’s approval.”

Rodimus relaxed considerably at the firmness of that answer. He believed his father was being honest, and since Megatron stood no chance of ever earning his or his brother’s approval, that put an end to at least one of the things troubling him. Looking his father in the optics, he asked his next question.

“Why did you shock him?”

Optimus sighed.

“Because I fell on a trap. Starscream’s failure as leader of the Decepticons made Megatron doubt his own cause, and he surrendered in part because he wanted to provoke me and get me to attack him in his cell. He hoped that getting me to reprise Whirl’s attack would rekindle his violent passion for the cause in the same way the original attack did.”

It took Rodimus a moment to absorb that.

“ _What_?!? That’s insane! You could have killed him!”

Optimus’s face contorted in pain.

“I know. I didn’t say he wasn’t also at least a little bit suicidal.”

Rodimus looked at the floor.

“Did he admit that plan to you, or are you guessing?”

“I’m guessing, but I’m fairly certain I’m right.”

“So you really… Know each other better than anyone else?”

“I’d say so.”

Rodimus bit his lips.

“Is he as important to you as Shockwave?” He asked in one breath. Present tense. He and Bumblebee had always known that their father wasn’t good at letting go, and that if the shadowplay was somehow miraculously reversed there was a good chance they’d end up with the Decepticon scientist as a step-father.

“He is,” Optimus admitted softly. Rodimus’s hands closed in tight fists.

“With Shockwave, I get it. He’s literally not himself, through no fault of his own. But Megatron… I talked to Drift, he told me as many good things about him as he could, but… The guy practically shot me in half, it’s hard to warm up to him.”

Optimus stared with him with trembling optics.

“You asked Drift to tell you good things about Megatron?”

“Of course! How else could I begin to make sense of your proximity to him?!?”

“That… Means a lot, son. I didn’t expect anything like it.”

“What _did_ you expect me to do?!?”

“I thought you’d just hate me. It… Would have been understandable, after everything I did today.”

“I did at first,” Rodimus admitted. “I _feared_ you too, and hated and feared myself for my reaction to seeing you shock Megatron.”

Optimus flinched, but Rodimus ignored it and went on.

“But Drift reminded me that you’ve always been a wonderful father, and I shouldn’t just throw it all away over one bad day, at least not until I’d talked to you about it and gave you a chance to explain.”

“I’m glad you had such good support today. And about your reaction… At the time, it scared me too. But considering what Megatron did to you, I think it’s natural. And the fact that you were immediately uncomfortable with the way you reacted shows you're a good person.”

“Thank you,” Rodimus muttered, still unconvinced of that. “So, how did _you_ react after you realized you’d messed up?”

“I made sure he was alright, then immediately left the room to think of what to do next. I’m still thinking.”

“That’s fair. And… Dad, about the command meeting…”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“I’m sorry we listened in on your private conversation. But you yelling isn’t what I’m worried about. It’s the fact that you shut down our opinions. If Megatron goes to trial and it’s decided he should be executed, will you interfere?”

Optimus hesitated.

“Being fully honest, I don’t know. I need to talk to him before.”

“Talk to _him_? Why?!?”

“I’ll ask him if he’d prefer to be executed or to get a life sentence if he’s judged guilty. If _he_ tells me he prefers death, it’ll be easier for me to come to terms with losing him.”

“And if he tells you he prefers a life sentence, but everyone else wants him executed?”

“I’ll fight hard to get him that life sentence, but I won’t help him to run away, or anything of the sort, if that is what you’re worried about.”

Rodimus stayed in silence for a long time.

“You know him so well… You don’t know which he’ll prefer?”

“I think I do. But I need to hear it from him.”

“You mean you think he’ll prefer death?!?”                                                     

“Is that so surprising? He’s spent a lot of his life in prisons of one type or another, and he didn’t deserve any of the first ones. The mines themselves were a prison, in a way, and then came the times when he was persecuted and unfairly arrested during the Senatorial regime… He’s had enough of prisons.”

His father sounded so sad that Rodimus couldn’t help feeling sorry for him, no matter how glad he was to hear that Megatron was probably going to force him to accept the execution. Besides, hearing him discuss Megatron’s early life somehow made Rodimus understand how hard it had been more than hearing it from Drift or from Decepticons. He still hated Megatron and would be glad to be rid of him, but he felt he could understand his father’s sadness better. It would be a depressing end to a story he’d followed from the miserable and innocent beginning.

Noticing he’d gone quiet, his father called him.

“Rodimus… There is something I want to make _very_ clear. I do care a lot about Megatron and Shockwave, but they’re _nothing_ compared to how important your brother and you are to me, alright? I love you two more than anything, and if I had to sacrifice Shockwave, restored to his own personality, and Megatron at his best behavior, to ensure the safety of either of you, I would without hesitation. You and Bumblebee are the best and most important parts of my life, and I’m really sorry if I made you feel otherwise.”

“You showed it really well for four million years,” Rodimus admitted quietly. “I guess everyone is entitled to a couple of off days.”

Optimus got up and walked towards him. Gathering his meaning, Rodimus stood and let him hug him.

“I’m still upset,” he commented, as he returned the hug. “It’ll be a while until things feel alright again.”

“I know.”

“And at any point Megatron may do something that will change my mind about not wanting to know whether or not he’s my father.”

“I know. You’re still taking this much better than I could have expected, not just of you, but of anyone. I’m so proud of you, son.”

He pat Rodimus’s shoulders, and they let go. Optimus seemed hesitant.

“Rodimus… Do you mind if I ask you a question of my own? It’s something I’ve wanted to ask someone else for a while, but I never could before.”

“That… sounds ominous. But go ahead.”

“When you became one with the Matrix… How did it feel?”

The memory of that wonderful moment banished all negative thoughts from Rodimus’s mind, and he smiled broadly.

“How did it feel _honestly_?”

“Between you and me.”

“It felt **wonderful**! I don’t know if I can describe…” he searched for words marvelous enough to convey the feeling, and the thought briefly crossed his mind that his complete lack of aptitude for poetry was a point against him being Megatron’s son. At last, a fitting metaphor came to his mind. “Actually, you know how, one time in every million, your transformation cog just **sings** and changing shape feels as **natural** as…. as putting one foot in front of the other? **That’s** how it felt!” He concluded triumphantly. And then, because it seemed natural to inquire, “you?”

To his surprise, his father avoided his gaze.

“I… Yes. Yes, something like that. Something like that…” he repeated, in a small murmur that made it clear his experience had been nothing like his son’s.

Rodimus thought it prudent not to make any comments, but this was certainly a fitting end to a day filled with shocking revelations. His father was the savior who’d brought the real Matrix back from the hiding spot where it had laid forgotten for millennia, and restored honor to the sullied title of Prime. If Rodimus had succumbed so easily to the flattery of being addressed as “Rodimus Prime”, it had been because he associated that word with his father’s bravery and wisdom. Questioning how his father felt about the title had never crossed his mind, because _of course he loved being Prime, who wouldn’t?!?_

Orion Pax, apparently. But that made no sense to Rodimus. He could understand young Orion being dismayed by his new prominence, due to the danger it might bring to his infant son and to the sparkling that he must just have discovered he was carrying, but… Why would that dismay last for millions of years, long after both children had grown into powerful warriors fully capable of taking care of themselves?!?

From all that Rodimus had ever heard, Orion Pax had been bold, reckless, and, well, a little bit arrogant. In other words, he’d been a lot like Rodimus himself, and Rodimus had always felt proud of that fact. Finding out that they were in fact dissimilar enough that his father disliked being Prime was far from being the worst thing that happened to Rodimus that day, but it did make him a bit sad. He felt himself growing apart from his father, and he hated the feeling.

Or maybe he was just tired.

Genuinely wishing his father the best of luck in the upcoming conversation with Megatron, he retired to his berthroom for a few hours of blessed unconsciousness in Drift’s arms.

* * *

 

Optimus bit his lips, grateful to the faceplate for enabling him to express his anxiety while still appearing stoic to others. Nervously, he entered the cell for the third time on that day, making sure that the curtain was closed and the audio was off. Strapped to the voltage harness, Megatron stared defiantly at him.

“Ratchet already came to make sure I hadn’t suffered any permanent damage. You don’t need to trouble your conscience in that account.”

Still angry at Megatron for having manipulated him, and at himself for having fallen for it, Optimus disguised all signs of relief and spoke tersely.

“That’s not why I’m here. You know why I came.”

“You came to tell me my fate. I wonder what took you so long.”

“I was busy. Rodimus saw what happened on my last visit to you.”

He shouldn’t have said that, but the impulse to shout “we’ve hurt our child!” was too strong. He had to express his rage in some way, even if he knew Megatron wouldn’t understand the full extent of his frustration and was likely to mock him in a way he wouldn’t if he knew Rodimus was his son as well.

“And that distressed you? Damus and I would have called that quality bonding time.”

Or perhaps his reaction was exactly what it would have been if he’d known the truth. Optimus wondered if he was being baited again, but he couldn’t contain his fury. Deciding that expressing his anger would be alright if he didn’t physically attack his prisoner again, he spoke in a low, grave tone.

“I was enough of an idiot to think that at least on the day of Damus’s adoption you’d been truthful to me.”

“I was,” Megatron said with unexpected softness. “I did my best to keep Damus away from any violence at first.” His tone grew cold again, “but there was a war going on, and as I’m sure you know well, at such times one can’t always be mindful of how the children are occupying their time.”

“You’d blame Overlord for what…”

“No, not fully. He introduced Damus to his violent pastimes, but I could have put a swift end to it if I wanted to. They were both so good at it, though, and I didn’t wish to stifle their creativity. Besides, it was the only thing the two of them ever bonded over.”

It took everything in Optimus not to reach for the lever again.

“Say the entire truth.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were happy to think of how horrified I’d be when I found out what Damus was turning into, weren’t you?”

“At times, yes,” Megatron admitted. “But don’t think I’d have let hard feelings towards you lead me to do anything that I considered harmful to my child. I don’t think letting Damus become Tarn did _him_ any harm. On the contrary, it was good for his personal development, brought him out of his shell. You remember how timid he used to be.”

Optimus grind his teeth and tried to set aside thoughts of what might have become of Rodimus if Megatron had known the truth and kidnapped him as a sparkling.

“You’re proud of how you raised him, then?”

“I am.” Megatron’s tone was proud and defiant, and Optimus decided he must return the blow.

“You know what I wonder, Megatron? I wonder what your parents, who lived and died under a brutal and oppressive regime, would say if they knew their son became a vicious dictator, and their grandsons monsters whose greatest pleasure in life is to inflict pain on those less fortunate than them.”

To his satisfaction, the blow hit the mark. Megatron looked shocked for a moment, then his face contorted in fury.

“Get out.”

“Do you think they would be proud? Do you think _Terminus_ would…”

“GET OUT!!!”

Optimus allowed himself a moment to smile under the plate and take petty satisfaction in having managed to make Megatron lose control, then made himself return to the business at hand.

“I’ll leave in a moment, but first we must settle what brought me here. Megatron… I once stood before the Senate and gave a speech on **your behalf**. It was about freedom, and while **you** may have changed, I haven’t. I’d give that same speech today. Freedom is the right of all sentient beings. And freedom is about choice. And it seems entirely appropriate, when called upon to decide whether a sentient being should live or die, that I offer the being in question the opportunity to **choose**. So, if Chief Justice Tyrest finds you guilty, what’s it to be? Death or imprisonment?”

“Death,” Megatron answered simply, as deep down Optimus had known he would. He tried not to let any emotion show.

“It’ll be as you wish.”

Megatron made no reply, and Optimus left the cell before he ended up doing something stupid again. Ratchet met him outside and handed him the Matrix.

“I believe this is yours.”

“Thank you for looking after it while I solved things with them. I needed to know if I was still the same person I was all those years ago, before I had the Matrix- when I couldn’t rely on it for guidance.”

Ratchet laid a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the optics.

“I could have answered that question for you.”

They smiled.

“Thank you. But I had to see it for myself.”

“I’m glad you did, then. So… How are they doing?”

“Rodimus is doing much better than I could have dreamed he would. I’ve never been prouder of that boy.”

“Did you tell him about Megatron?”

“I was prepared to, but he said he didn’t want to know. Not today, at least, after everything he already went through. But I think the moment for that conversation is approaching. At least he’ll be able to choose the time to ask. I’ve always feared having to drop the truth on him by surprise.”

Ratchet nodded.

“And Megatron?”

Optimus sighed.

“I let him choose his punishment, and he, of course, chose death.”

“‘Of course?’” Ratchet laughed. “You presume everyone knows him as well as you do. To me, it’s surprising. Megatron is one of the most determined survivors I’ve ever known, and in my field of work that’s saying something.”

“How many of those survivors of yours were faced with a choice between death and life in prison?”

“Touché. So… How are _you_ doing now?”

“Not well. This may have been the last time I was ever alone with Megatron, and it was a fight. Over Damus.”

Ratchet flinched.

“I don’t regret anything else,” Optimus admitted. “I don’t regret falling in love with Megatron, because if I hadn’t, Rodimus wouldn’t exist. I don’t even regret still loving him, because I’ve accepted that being incapable of forgetting someone once I fall for them is an inherent part of who I am. But there’s not a second of my life in which I don’t regret my role in setting Damus on the path he took, and… Before today I was stupid enough to hope that Megatron might regret his too.”

“Well,” said Ratchet, “maybe **he** isn’t the man he was all those years ago.”

Optimus nodded sadly and thanked Ratchet again for looking after the Matrix. After reassuring his friend that he was doing well enough to be alone, and commenting that he should probably try to get some rest before they got to Cybertron, he retired to his berthroom, still holding the ancient artefact in his hands. The sight would surprise anyone who saw him, but he didn’t care. After the day he’d had, he decided he deserved a full night of recharge before he reassumed the burden of carrying it on his chest. He hadn’t realized just how draining the Primacy had become.

But it hadn’t felt like a burden to Rodimus, he recalled with a startle. Why? Was his son better suited for this job than he was? He would never wish such a burden on anyone, let alone one of his children, but if Rodimus felt _good_ as a Prime, he would be glad to pass the Matrix to him. The boy had certainly proved himself mature enough for the job.

(Most people would probably disagree with that statement, but they didn't know how unprepared _he_ had felt when the Matrix chose him. Rodimus didn't currently strike him as being that much more immature than he had been on that fateful day.)

But if that was how things stood, why had the Matrix returned to Optimus? Why hadn’t it told Rodimus it wished to stay with him?

Optimus sighed as he entered his berthroom and laid the Matrix on a side desk. He would think of that again later, once the confront against Galvatron was over. For now, he had a few hours to himself, and he could think of no better way to relax and rest for battle than to put all thoughts of leadership aside and pretend for a while that he was still simply Orion Pax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm back.
> 
> I'm REALLY sorry it took me this long to update. Time to write has been scarce lately, but I promise I'm still really invested in this fic. Megatron's recent return in canon gave me some ideas I'm looking forward to showing you. Thank you SO much for all the support and the nice comments you guys have been leaving, and to anyone who's still reading after this unintentional hiatus, thank you so much for your patience.


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